


Accounting 300

by redsliver



Series: The Spectacular Spider-man Seasons 3, 4 and 5 [1]
Category: The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 41,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsliver/pseuds/redsliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider-man has killed Norman Osborn. Everything in Peter Parker's life seems to have turned against him. Now, he has to deal with the consequences of his actions and his decisions. It might be a little easier if all the women in his life weren't throwing him around worse than Rhino ever did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 301 In The Black

Another night, another punk. Smoke billowed out from the hood of the old rustbucket SUV as the wheels tried to force their way through thoroughly dried webbing. Three burglars with handguns and a pillowcase full of twenty dollar bills were splotchy with an ATM's ink-trap. Spider-man dropped down onto the roof of the getaway vehicle.

 

"It's the webhead!" Panicked the shortest member from the back seat. Spidey weaved and dodged, eventually flipping to the sidewalk as bullets ripped through the roof of the car.

 

"Now, now, now, those are not toys," Spider-man admonished. He had landed on his hands and with his proportionate spider strength he rebounded feet first through the back seat window. Thwip, thwip, thwip. He twisted mid flight, breaking the second window and landing out on the street, with just enough time to leap back onto the roof and out of traffic. The shriek of a minivan's horn followed him. The backseat shooter was pinned down. The front two flung open their doors. The driver side was clipped by Ford and sheared from its hinges. The cars began piling up, effectively walling in the driver.

 

"Don't kill me!" Shrieked the uninformed driver as he threw his hands over his head. Three strings of web tied him tightly to the bucket seat. Spidey harrumphed at the driver and turned to the third man. He had his gun and pillow case. He weaved around a hot dog stand. It was half a heart beat before Spider-man swung over his head to drop on the sidewalk next to him.

 

"A pillow fight and here I forgot my spider-jammies!" Thwip thwip. Spider-man pinned the gun hand to the robber's chest and attached another lead to his foot. The man shrieked as he was flipped and strung up from an overhanging Greek flag. Spider-man caught the dropped money bag nonchalantly.

 

Across the street and several stories overhead perched the Black Cat. She watched the webhead with a thin lipped grimace. With a sneer and a click she shut down the magnifiers in her mask. Two green and orange lens slid away from her blue eyes. For two weeks she had been assessing the Spider-man. She knew how he moved, knew how he joked and how he fought. She knew he was super-powered. The hot desire for revenge had cooled but remained insistent. She had nightmares of her father dying in prison. She had other dreams about the Spider. She played with him like a puppet until one by one his threads broke and he went tumbling to the street below. She was angry but she still knew that she wanted the Spider almost as much as she wanted to hurt him. She had watched him move, he filled that costume beautifully. Cat purred, if she was strong enough, maybe she could have it all.

 

 

 

The police cruiser rolled lazily through Hell's Kitchen. For the first time since the Green Goblin's death, violence and robbery seemed in a lull. Sergeant Stan Carter was bone tired. Officer Jean DeWolff was craving a cigarette, a post-coital cigarette preferably. She had quit smoking almost four years ago. The cravings had never quit, especially not on a night like this. A calm night lately was just holding its breath. A calm night just couldn't last.

 

The staccato of small handguns sent Carter's finger to the lights and sirens. DeWolff called for backup. A half block and two unlucky teenaged gangbangers were slumped up against an old brick home while a car sped down the street. Four in the morning and traffic was nonexistent. Carter was about to give chase while DeWolff called for an ambulance. Another police cruiser rushed out of a side street and cornered the fleeing car. Brakes screeched and a Daily Bugle paper dispenser crumpled under the front bumper of the fleeing car. The driver and shooter were quickly subdued with no more gunfire.

 

Twenty five minutes later and DeWolff climbed into the cruiser. She handed Carter a steaming cup of coffee. "Hell of a night," She said. The two gunshot victims had been rushed to hospital with hopeful prognoses. It was one of their better nights.

 

"It'll be worse in the morning. All the damned paper work because some stupid kids were on the wrong damned corner." Carter snarled. "I never thought I'd miss organized crime." He slurped his coffee. Jean wanted to voice her disgust, but she let her partner continue after a moment. "When the Big Man ruled, the punks had someone to be scared of. Someone they had to answer to. For Goblin's three weeks of chaos you could tell the criminals from the taxpayers by the pumpkin masks. Throw in the webhead and we only had to mop up vandalism and theft and the occasional not-so-wise-guy in the East River." He took another draft. "Now, Goblin's dead, Lincoln's buried in red tape, and Silvermane's too old to be a has-been. With no hand on the reins, these scumbag idiot kids think they're going to make a name for themselves. Midtown's become a battlefield. Brooklyn's all but on fire. Hell's kitchen is running red. It's open goddamned season. Not in my city, DeWolff. By God, not in my city."

 

"We're doing our best, Stan," DeWolff reproved. "We're half dead on our feet and we're still cleaning up the city. This crime wave can't go on forever, sooner or later the price for these little turds will rise too high. It's going to get better."

 

"How can you be so sure?" Carter put the coffee cup into the cup holder and reclined back. He never could get a cruiser's seat into a comfortable position with the hard plastic shield behind his headrest.

 

"The punks might not have the fear The Big Man instilled but they don't have the protection either. They're quickly going to learn how heavy handed the law can be." DeWolff started on her coffee.

 

"Not heavy enough," Muttered Carter. He pulled out into the street, a cloud of anger settling on his mind. DeWolff drummed her fingers on the passenger door's handle. Stan was getting worse. These conversations had occurred every night for the past six shifts. He had been volunteering for these late night patrols. The pair of them had been afternoon and evening cops for nearly two years now. This was the beat they had when she was still a rookie. She worried, it was written on her face. The foul things she'd have done right then and there for a cigarette.

 

 

 

It was the hour before sunrise and the city that never sleeps was living up to its press. Zipping across skyscraper roofs, a silhouette of a remarkable creature swung swiftly above the city's early risers. Another line was shot into the bottom of window washer's platform. No worker meant no one was startled as it vibrated precariously. Falling into a roll the silhouette rose up undamaged and with little loss of momentum. Thirteen steps and the silhouette dove off the edge of the building. The line shot up after the descent and gripped the ledge.

 

"Hello Blackie," Purred the Black Cat as she rappelled down in front of the mustachioed bookie.

 

"Oy, Kitty-Kat," Gaxton squeezed the bridge of his nose, "I was hoping to make my way to bed. Can whatever your fencing wait until sundown?"

 

"Not quite," Cat reached out and touched her razor tipped claw to Gaxton's o'clock am stubble. "And I'm not selling, I'm buying."

 

"Buying what?" In spite of his tiredness the bookie raised his eyebrow.

 

“Power." She purred, it was hard to keep one's eyes off of a determined Black Cat.

 

"I don't follow, kid," Blackie stepped back. Not out of reach, a kick of her leather clad leg would swing her right into a slash of open throat, but far enough that she'd need more than a lazy flick of her wrist.

 

"Word about town is that you had your hand in the whole Molten Man incident." Cat remembered the bronze flame thrower from her aggravating attempt to free her father from prison. "I want that kind of power."

 

"Ah," Blackie settled his gaze on hers, "And even if I have the right connections, why'd I ally myself with Spider-man's pretty kitty?"

 

The scowl on her face raised the hair Blackie's neck. Black Cat spoke in a lioness growl, "Spider-man, I am through with that do-gooder. The next time he crosses my path, his luck runs out. I need the power to assure that spider gets stepped on."

 

"Oh, ho ho ho," Blackie drew on a sinister grin, "I'll make a phone call. Meet me tonight at the Kurt Connors' old lab. You know where it is, right?"

 

"I've been there before," Cat recalled her first meeting with Spider-man. Her traitorous blood warmed at the memory, her heart filled with ice. "I'll be there at 10 pm sharp."

 

"Always a pleasure, Kitty-Kat," Blackie snarled his sarcasm.

 

"The pleasure's all mine, Gaxton." With a flick of her left hand her grapnel gun's rewind motor kicked in with a high pitched whir. The Black Cat rose quickly into the swelling pink of the rising sun.

 

 

 

"You're to be there at 8pm sharp!" Jolly Jonah's curt orders were followed by an immediate hangup. Peter Parker sighed and slumped against his locker. He was not looking forward to this assignment. Ned Lee had convinced him it was a follow up story to the Green Goblin. An albatross with the weight of the world around Peter Parker's neck. He was due at some swanky shindig where scavengers and backstabbers were going to claw and snap over the scraps left by the death of Norman Osborn. He was going to be taking pictures of the widowed Emily Osborn with all the predators of the corporate world. Worse, he was going to have to watch Gwen with Harry. He loved her, hell, Peter loved Harry. Gwen had chosen Harry to protect him from himself.

 

Peter was lost and lonely. Neither, Harry nor Gwen seemed to have the time to spend with him and, after his extremely public breakup with Liz, it seemed the whole school had turned on him. Sally's cutting remarks were more verbal, more often. Not that she had showed much restraint during his three month relationship with Miss Allan, but it seemed Peter's first crush believed she had to make up for lost time. Flash and Kenny were resurrecting their juvenile attempts to make him look foolish. Sha Shan's influence tamed Eugene but Glory let loose King Kong's leash as a show of support for Liz. And while neither bully was particularly mean spirited, Peter's spider-sense tingled at least three times a day.

 

"You're looking morose, tiger," MJ fell into step beside Peter's trudging gait. Her aura as a fun seeking free spirit had become muted since Mark's imprisonment. She seemed to be the only person that had backed Peter after his and Liz's breakup. She and Glory were friends but it seemed pressure was building to sever the cool kid crowd from the redhead.

 

"Oh, hey Red," Peter greeted in a tone to match his frown.

 

"What's the matter?" She tugged him down a hallway away from his English class.

 

“Well for starter's, the best looking redhead I ever met is attempting to make me cut class." Peter smirked. MJ laughed back.

 

"If that's your biggest problem..." She trailed off with an inaudible giggle. The pair left M3 through the backdoors and out across the teacher's car park. The lot was empty.

 

"I don't usually cut class," Peter wasn't objecting.

 

"You miss class all the time, and when you do show up you're usually late." MJ sneered.

 

"Unavoidable incidents," Peter adopted a falsely sarcastic manner. His life as Spider-man was mostly responsible for his poor attendance, but better to play the miscreant truant than to endanger others with his secret identity. "My life is just that exciting."

 

"I'll bet," MJ's tone matched Peter's. It was the first true smile he had seen on her since February. She switched to serious, "But the Spider-man picture hunting's got to be fun."

 

"Except when I get half buried in trash," Peter recalled his first battle with Shocker. It still amazed him that all of this had happened in the last year. In fact the anniversary of his spider-bite was less than one month away. All the memories of Uncle Ben and Norman Osborn flooded back into him. He fell into a

depression.

 

MJ attempted a few more conversations as they marched down to the Silver Spoon. Each one ended in she or Peter's collapsing happiness. Parker's money troubles were legendary. MJ didn't hesitate to order their two cappuccinos with enough whip, chocolate and additives that they were closer to candy bars than coffees. They found a secluded booth in the corner. When they were seated across from each other and out of the view and interest from the rest of the store Mary Jane Watson opened up.

 

"They won't let me in to visit Mark." She said, the foam on Peter's lip tugged a half smile to her lips before she continued. "His lawyers said they were lucky to arrange visitations from Mark's immediate family, his high school girlfriend," she sneered the words, "doesn't amount to much of anything."

 

There were several self destructive meanings to her comment and Peter managed a rare moment of insight picking up on them.

 

"Come on, MJ," Peter reached across and took her hand. She was trembling, unwilling to let herself cry. Spider-man solved problems, Peter wasn't equipped to just be a good friend and listener. He wanted to help but there was no way he could get her in to see Mark. Instead, he just aimed to cheer her up. "I'm sure Mark knows you tried to get in to see him. I'm sure he knows you care." MJ's intensity as she listened was intimidating. Peter would've rather stared down the Rhino but he kept talking. He didn't realize what he was saying. "I have to go take pictures at some fancy corporate shindig tomorrow night. You should come with me, we could dress up, raid the buffets and spreads. Dance. Just have a good time."

 

"Yeah?" Mary Jane perked up. She had been instrumental in Peter and Gwen's admission of love. It hurt her to see Gwen still with Harry. Not that Harry wasn't a great guy. It seemed to MJ that she was appending too many of her thoughts with "Not that Harry wasn't a great guy." She knew Peter would rather be going to this thing with Gwen. She knew she'd rather be spending the night with Mark. "I'd love to go."

 

"I have to be there for 8pm, or I could get fired..." Peter explained.

 

"Is J Jonah Jameson going to be there?" MJ had heard several of Peter's overinflated horror stories of "Jolly Jonah" she was feeling excited to meet him.

 

"Possibly, but I'm working Ned Lee." It was a follow up to the Goblin story, but Peter didn't want to talk about that. "Harry's going to be there, Gwen too probably."

 

"Oh," MJ considered. Truth be told she needed this. She was the fun loving girl, the party girl. She knew too many people considered her a flake but Mark hadn't and Peter definitely did not. She needed a night out, to let loose. "I'll go. Pick you up at 7:30?"

 

"You're picking me up?" Peter asked, realizing only now that taking a date meant he wasn't going to be swinging his way across town to Oscorp.

 

"You can't drive, tiger," Mary patted Peter's hand this time. Her voice suggested she was explaining something to a senile grandparent. Her smile tugged at her lips as she tried to appear consoling. "I'll have to check if I can borrow Aunt Anna's car. I'm sure she'll let me." MJ suppressed the idea of asking her dad. Her life had enough drama without stirring that pot. "Do we have to go back today? I've got some things I want to do and you're just the guy to do them with." The sheer impishness of her smile couldn't have been matched my anyone. Peter remembered why he always got so fuzzy headed when he lost himself in her green eyes.

 

"Yeah, I can miss history, but I do have to get to ESU for my intern shift."

 

"Great, that means I got you for almost two hours. Do you know what we can do with two hours?"

 

Peter's mental guess flushed his cheeks. MJ smacked his shoulder with a smile. She dragged him by the wrist after he trashed their coffee cups.

 

 

 

 

"You missed history," Gwen was waiting for Peter on the steps of Dr. Warren's lab. They were both a few minutes early. Peter had bid good-bye to MJ only minutes before. He was wearing an uncommon smile. The lab was one of the few places where he got a chance to talk to Gwen. It made up for the recent loss of the Doctors Connors.

 

"It's kind of hard to have been there for the fall of Rome," Peter smirked flippantly. Gwen shared a sad smile.

 

"I got your homework," Gwen told him dutifully. Peter thanked her. The pair pushed in through the door. There were cubby lockers for their bookbags and labcoats. They mechanically fell into their coats and routines. First and foremost they had to keep the lab clean. They picked up their spray bottles and

cloths.

 

"Good afternoon Miss Stacy. Mr Parker." Doctor Miles Warren rushed passed them on his way to one of the work benches. The speed at which he walked and the curt, perfunctory, yet present, formality suggested that he was onto something big. He shoved a slide under a microscope and demanded: "Miss Whitman could you bring me another sample."

 

 

"Hi Debra," Peter waved as the attractive sophomore strode passed him and Gwen with silence. "Guess Doc Connors was wrong, perhaps she just doesn't prefer Peter."

 

"Oh, Peter," Gwen moaned sarcastically, she squeezed his shoulder and headed over to the lab animal cages.

 

"Mr Parker," Doctor Warren ordered without removing his eye from the slide, "Two white rats, please."

 

Parked obeyed, picking one of the portable wire cages. The inmates were both adult females. He said as much as he put them down beside the microscope. "That'll do fine," Warren declared. He picked out one of his rats as Debra arrived and handed him a pink filled syringe. The label surprised Peter.

 

"Are those the Jupiter Spores that infected John Jameson?" He asked surprised.

 

"Indeed," Miles Warren ignored or missed Peter's tone and provided an academic, if arrogant, explanation. "They've been desiccated with pour nutrition and electricity. We are now seeing the effects of the weakened growth stimulant on rats." Peter thought the idea dangerous, but stepped back. Miles Warren and Doctor Connors had both taken risks and had both made fantastic discoveries for science and for mankind. The rat squirmed as he was injected with 0.2 cc of the Jupiter Spores.

 

Warren and Peter stepped back to watch. Gwen Stacy and Debra Whitman continued their own duties in the lab. It was only minutes before the first effects were seen. The uninjected rat was squeaking and clawing at the cage. The test subject was rolling its hackles and snuffling around, it was swelling, growing bigger around the haunches and shoulders. Muscles rippled under short white fur. Peter was on edge, expecting his spider-sense to set off like a fire alarm and the rat to triple in size and leap through the flimsy steel wire that formed the rat's cage. He was overly sensitive.

 

It was after ten minutes that an equilibrium had been reached. The panicked rat had calmed down and taken her scratched up claws from the bars. The test rat had grown about fifteen percent in mass. It was walking around and acting like a normal rat. Peter let out a breath and Warren excused himself for a giggle of childlike wonder. "This is amazing Doc!"

 

The control rat approached the test rat and as soon as the smaller sniffed the larger, the test rat attacked. She squealed in something that sounded like glee and killed her cellmate. Peter's heart sank.

 

"A growth rate occurred at rapid rate..." Unconcerned with the fate of the smaller rat Warren recorded his observations into a small recorder. Peter felt sick to his stomach. "...and heightened levels of aggression."

 

"Mr Parker, please, dispose of the sample." Warren walked away from the rat cage and back to his first workstation. Debra walked over with him, silently and instinctually adjusting knobs before Warren asked for it. Peter sighed. He carried the rat cage over to a glass fume hood and closed the window shut.

 

"This is always the worst part," Gwen stood next to Peter as he released the neo-atropine. She was right.

 

 

 

 

"That's fine Ms. Whitman," Doctor Warren was washing his hands, "You go on home, I'll be off shortly." His high school interns had left at 8pm. He had made amazing progress today and he was going to make considerable money tonight. Debra waved good night and Doctor Warren was alone.

 

"Good evening, Doc," Minutes later Blackie Gaxton entered the lab like he owned the place. He was dressed in a three hundred dollar suit and a million dollar grin. "I trust you're ready to receive the lady."

 

"Things are prepared." Doctor Warren announced, "And where is our guest?"

 

The beautiful young woman stepped out of the shadows from behind the doctor. "I'm here." Her face was obscured by her mask but her body was all but revealed in her fur trimmed catsuit. The zipper hung low revealing a generous amount of cleavage. Doctor Warren turned without the slightest hint of startlement or surprise.

 

"Excellent." He grasped his hands behind his back reaffirming the revolver he wore under his labcoat. "You understand the expense of this procedure?"

 

"I do." She moved like liquid sex, walking around Warren to look at Gaxton. "You can provide the benefits I'm looking for?"

 

"Of course," Warren assured her, "But I'm looking for more than research money."

 

"Oy, Doc! This isn't what we agreed upon."

 

"You'll still get your share Mr Gaxton." Warren kept his eyes on the cat burglar.

 

"What is it you're asking for?" Cat normally preferred the game and flirtation of negotiation, but she was impatient, heartbroken and in poor company.

 

"I require you to acquire a sample of Spider-man's DNA. Blood would be preferred."

 

"It just so happens, Doc," Cat smiled ravishingly, "That I am out for Spider-man's blood."

 

"Then we have our bargain." Warren offered his hand and Cat shook it. "Mr Gaxton, the woman should have her privacy for the procedure."

 

"Yeah, well, my brokerage fees are still due." Gaxton shrugged.

 

"The money's right here." Cat swayed over to where she had appeared so many moments ago and lifted a steel bound briefcase. There was a quarter of a million dollars within. Gaxton took it from her and moved into Warren's office to count it. When the blinds were pulled, Warren turned to Black Cat.

 

"You'll need to remove your top, I want to check your vitals before the injection." Cat hopped up on the black counter of the cleared workbench. She unzipped down to her navel and slipped her hands from her gauntlets and sleeves. Her skin was fair and gorgeous, her platinum hair fell strikingly around her flirtatious grin. Warren looked on her clinically. She was one of the best specimens of femininity he ever lay eyes upon. The breasts contained within her black strapless bra were unparalleled. He silently thanked that she had opted against his mammalian mutagen.

 

She shivered as his cold stethoscope was pressed over her breasts and against her back. The thermometer left a metallic taste under her tongue. The bright light in her eyes made her blink. After a few more cursory tests Warren announced that she was a specimen of health.

 

"So we can move on to the main event?" Cat demanded impatiently.

 

"Of course." Warren picked up his injection gun and two vials of liquid, the first was a pale pink and labeled Jupiter the second was an effervescent green and labeled nanobots. Cat allowed the gun on her upper arm as the green and then the pink were injected into her. After touching up the rivulet of blood

with a cotton swab and a Band-Aid, Warren instructed Cat that she could dress herself once more.

 

"I don't feel any different," She announced as the zipper rose up higher than usual on her chest. She cricked her neck and rolled her shoulders. She wiggled her toes and arched her back. Nothing.

 

"The nanobots keep the enhancers suppressed," Warren said with a presumptuous smile. He pulled a small black controller from his pocket. It looked like a garaged door opener with the button painted as red as a rocket's self destruct. Cat let out a surprised howl. Doctor Warren had pressed the button.

 

Cat leapt to her feet, landing an unexpected twelve inches further from the table. Her body swelled under the catsuit, she grew an inch in height, struggling for breath she had to unzip her breasts. Everything was bigger! She retained her feline slimness but achieved pantheric muscle. Her agility, balance, reflexes and strength were drastically improved. She even looked sexier. Her surprise melted into supreme confidence, she whipped around the lab under the amused grin of Doctor Warren. He pressed the trigger once again. Cat diminished, her body reverting to its original state in only a matter of moments. A feeling of weakness overcame surprise and disappointment. She turned angrily towards Warren. He tossed her the remote. "The control is in your hands. There is only one other remote, an override in essence. It is yours on the delivery of Spider-man's blood."

 

"Don't lock it up too tightly, Doc," Cat looked as if she had caught the canary, "I'll be back for it very soon." She pressed her button and made a leap for the skylight, thirteen feet above. She reached it cleanly, pulling herself through the window she had earlier opened and disappeared into the New York night. Gaxton came out of the office.

 

"Always a pleasure, Doc." Blackie smirked. He had a manilla envelope full of fifty grand in his breast pocket.

 

"Of course, Mr. Gaxton," Warren smirked in pride, "I look forward to when we work together again."

 

"All we need is a few more backers like Kitty-Kat there." Gaxton waved his good-bye and left via the front door.

 

"Or better, one more like The Big Man." Warren cleaned up the evidence, set the alarms and turned off the light.

 

 

 

Another stellar day at school. Parker's sock were still soaked from the bucket he had stepped in. With his Spider-sense it would have been easy to sidestep. Secret identities sucked. Parker got on the bus behind Gwen. She had just kissed Harry a melancholy good-bye. Peter had been mostly alone all day. MJ had been around to confirm picking him up at seven thirty, but otherwise the only person who had exchanged words with him, as opposed to at him, was Mr. Aaron Warren, his biology teacher. Hoping for a step away from boredom he sat down next to Gwen.

 

"Hey there stranger," He said. She looked unimpressed. However, since MJ had dolled Gwen up and convinced her to wear contact lenses, the blonde had been unable to successfully give Peter, Harry, or her father "The Look." It made her feel naked. Not that she'd mind feeling naked with Peter. She couldn't keep the blush from her cheeks so she turned to look at her feet.

 

"Hey, Peter. How're things with Aunt May?" She picked a neutral topic in the hope that she could calm down a little.

 

"She's doing well, getting stronger every day. Her cookbook is selling well, which is good because my Spidey versus nobody pics are only getting me page thirteen paychecks." Peter sighed, slouching back in his seat. "But she's doing well and there are no supervillains flying around blowing things up so I shouldn't really complain, should I?"

 

"I think everybody should be entitled to a good complain once in while, even when things are going well." Gwen smiled, she'd have squeezed his hand but contact with Peter just made her feel guilty with Harry. It was the most frustrating thing she had ever lived through.

 

"Well I've easily gone through my quota these last few months," Peter declared. He fumbled for a topic."Are you going to the Oscorp thing tonight?" It was the wrong question because Gwen looked back to her shoes.

 

"Yeah, Harry got me a new dress. It's too soon, his dad only died last week! And he has to put up with all these people trying to swoop in to rob a still warm grave." She was livid and so was Peter. Though he was still mad at himself for Norman's death. It was like ice in his veins.

 

"Well if you need support, I'll be there. Taking pictures." He left out the Ned Lee's Goblin angle.

 

"Oh?" Gwen perked up a little, "Be sure to say hi to Harry. He needs his friends now."

 

"Of course," Peter understood. He knew what it was like when he lost uncle Ben. Sometimes the feelings would just catch up to him, shut him down for a few moments. It was Uncle Ben's words that kept him going. Great responsibility was a heavy burden at times but it made him the man he was today.

 

 

 

 

 

The afternoon at the lab lazily rolled into an evening at home. Aunt May fussed as Peter settled into his uncle's old tux. May was absolutely ecstatic that Peter was again going out with MJ, to the point that she said a call before 10 would be sufficient to buy him an hour and a bit passed his usual curfew. Peter

looked himself in the mirror, performed all the combing his hair would allow and made sure to clip the press pass on his chest. His bowtie was crooked and his shoes could be shinier but he did look good. The doorbell rang.

 

"I'll get it!" He shouted to his aunt as he took their thirteen steps in four paces. He opened the door. Mary Jane Watson was a knockout. Her black dress was cut low. The dress came down to mid thigh just over the lacy tops of her dark stockings. Her legs ran sleekly down to her jet black heels. Rubies shined in her ears and a glittering gold chain was looped obliquely on her hips. Her dark painted lips and shadowed green eyes gave Peter's heartbeat a nervous stammer. She had one hand on her hip, the other brushed aside her red bangs. She repeated the first words she had ever spoke to him. "Face it, Tiger, you just hit the jackpot."

 

With a shouted good-bye over his shoulder, Peter and Mary left the Parker residence to the Volkswagen in Anna Watson's driveway. "All excited for our wild night?" MJ asked as she put the car in gear and headed out into Forest Hill's evening traffic.

 

"I just hope you can keep up with me," Smirked Peter. Man, was she gorgeous, the little things were causing his heart to pump superheated steam through his veins. The way her thigh tightened when she stepped on the clutch. The early moonlight playing on her glossy lips. The gentle swell of her chest captivated Peter with every breath. He kept his smirk and his humor.

 

"You're in for one exhausting night, Tiger, if you hope to wear me out."

 

"You'll be amazed at my stamina." The obvious flirtation colored Peter's cheeks and cocked MJ's grin.

 

"Amazing? You're sure that's the word for you?"

 

"Some prefer spectacular." Peter reclined his seat slightly, "But, Red, tonight you get both."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry stepped out from behind the curtain with Gwen following a pace behind him. He was wearing a six thousand dollar suit with a green tie over a green silk shirt. His face was counterfeit civility. He prepared for an evening of shaking hands and hearing worthless condolences and platitudes. His mother was already out there, a glass of red wine in her hands as she spoke coolly with a giant of a man. Bald and in a garish white suit. Gwen caught up and he wrapped his arm around her. It was a possessive gesture, she felt warm and smelled great and Harry didn't notice.

 

The room was the large hall at Oscorp. The domed roof of steel and glass let moonlight filter through the chandeliers casting an ethereal spiderweb of lights across the whole room. Tables dotted around the green and white tiled floor clothed in white and illuminated with two headed candlesticks. The guests were dressed in their frivolously expensive best. Most were there to be seen, only a few there to assure their investment carried. Oscorp belonged to Harry Osborn, but his shares and influence were in trust until his twenty-fifth birthday. With almost nine years to milk Oscorp's cash cow the rats had come out of the woodwork. Security was tight, large men in black suits and darker sunglasses stood at strategic positions. The upnosed uptown crowd saw through them, more statuary and colour for the event.

 

Peter Parker arrived at precisely 8:08 in the pm. His left arm was linked with the lovely Mary Jane Watson's and his right was pushing his press pass into the mitt of a particularly stubborn security.

 

"The two from the Daily Bugle arrived fifteen minutes ago," He said sternly.

 

"Look, I was asked by Ned Lee to be his official photographer tonight. The pass in my hand declares that. I can see Ned over there talking with Mrs... er Ms. Osborn." His tone tumbled into a mumble. MJ squeezed his arm and Peter rallied. He picked the sixteen megapixel camera out of his coat pocket. The investment of his money.

 

"Look, the list says Daily Bugle (2)," The large black man said in slow frustrated syllables. Dealing with a teenager may have been better than a Doctor Octopus attack but the security guard would have welcomed the challenge. "And it's checked off with two check marks. That means both press members have arrived."

 

"But how could they! Oscorp only issued two press passes, one to Lee and the other to myself." He waved the ineffectual placard under the darkened glasses with frustrated fervor, "If one of these is still out here than how can both Bugle members be here already."

 

"Sir," The security man's patience was wearing thin. Luckily, a striking brunette in a daring blue dress placed a hand on his shoulder. She flashed an award winning smile and then turned to Peter.

 

"Peter!" She opened her arms and gave Peter a hug. MJ stepped back to give them room. The smile on the redhead's face was training for her dream to become an actress.

 

"Hi Miss Brant... er Betty." Peter said when the brunette stepped back, "You look amazing."

 

"You clean up nice yourself." She looked over to the redhead. "And who's your friend?"

 

"Oh, right, Betty this is MJ," Peter exchanged names with overenthusiastic gestures feeling unnecessarily guilty.

 

"Oh? Betty from The Bugle?" MJ lit up with a gorgeous smile, she picked Betty's offered hand in both of hers. "You're the girl Peter dumped before taking me to the fall formal. Oh I'm so sorry for you. You lost out on a great guy."

 

"Peter?" Betty's smile was accompanied with the harsh grind of teeth. "I was going to clear up this little Bugle security mess for you-"

 

"Betty! she's teasing! Besides Aunt May dumped you so I'd have to go out with MJ!" Peter's explanation had the security chuckling unprofessionally. The redhead turned on Peter with a cobra's smile. Betty wasn't looking much happier.

 

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of pity case your aunt pushed on you." Peter squirmed.

 

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of weeping girl who missed out on attending a high school dance." Peter calculated how fast he could get out of Oscorp at top web-swinging speed.

 

"Parker!" Peter's savior appeared in a blue blazer with leather patches on his elbow. Ned Lee looked underdressed next to Betty, whose waist he encircled his left hand, let alone all the swanky billionaires mingling in the hall. "C'mon let's get that camera of yours on the go." Ned released his grip on Betty after an affectionate squeeze. Then he was off, he had ideas, questions and instincts. He was after the goblin.

 

Mary and Betty looked at each other. There was a moment of silence and the security guard imagined the sexiest catfight he might have ever seen. Both girls let out uproarious laughter and Betty beckoned MJ to follow her into the hall. Sighing, the security guard adjusted his clipboard to read Daily Bugle (2 + dates) and squiggled another two check marks onto the board.

 

The crowd was a literal who's who of the New York scientific R&D. Great scientists and businessmen had flashy women on their arms. Alcohol flowed greatly and more than one man looked unsteady in his shoes. Peter snapped pictures of everyone, making sure to get Emily Osborn and Harry from several different angles. Gwen's sad smile haunted his memory stick. Ned Lee zigzagged through the room, stopping and asking a routine set of questions to all the bigwigs. "Oh, poor Norman Osborn! The world will miss such a great man." Was the flashcard talking point on everyone's lips. Tri-corp's (Osborn's biggest competitor when he was alive) president Spencer Smythe didn't even have the decency to hide his self-satisfied smirk. His words were the same but only because one had to watch how they were quoted. The man oozed smugness and triumph. Peter would have thought he would have been the man to keep his eyes on, except for one other shill.

 

"What do you know about Roderick Kingsley?" Peter asked of Lee after they spoke to Alistair Smythe. Alistair was not much older than Betty, committed to a wheelchair and half in the bag. His father, Spencer, doted on him and Alistair grumbled ungratefully.

 

"The perfume guy?" Ned scrunched his nose as he looked over to Mr Kingsley and the drop dead gorgeous blonde on his right arm. "Made his fortune off of fashion and cosmetics. Not known as the nicest of businessmen but few nice guys make it into the Fortune 500. He's kind of known for crushing start up designers and cosmetics shops and then acclimating their ideas. He's had quite a number of those complaints thrown out of court. More importantly, the girl on his arm is Lily Hollister. I could tell you much more about her."

 

"Lily Hollister? The supermodel?" Peter kept the appreciative whistle to himself. Lily was a five foot eleven before her heels. Even with those she was still short next to Kingsley. Kingsley presented an air of thin, foppish, civility. Somehow his height and size just didn't seem as intimidating as they deserved. "Rich guys have all the luck."

 

"Tell me about it." Lee agreed defeated.

 

"Tell you about what?" Betty and MJ appeared on either side of the Bugle's reporting team. Peter accepted MJ's offered punch. Lee accepted a glass of champagne from Betty.

 

"Just admiring the life of the rich and sordid," Peter sipped his punch. He was definitely interested in Kingsley. The fashion magnate had earned the eye of Spider-man when he had purchased the specs to mass produce Rhino armored soldiers. He had sunk 500 million dollars into that morass. Ambition and retribution. He had the most to gain from the takeover of Oscorp.

 

"Its not all its cracked up to be," MJ said looking around. Her dress and body was a match for any woman in the room and hers had cost chump change compared to some of the others. The elegant gray gown on Emily Osborn had to weigh in at over ten gs. "C'mon, Tiger, take a bit of time off to join me on the dance floor."

 

"You too, Ned," Betty picked the emptied glass from Ned's hand and deposited on a nearby table. The girls led their men to the area cleared for dancing. The slow jazz songs had a dozen couples moving romantically. Peter took MJ's hand and settled another on her hip.

 

"I needed this night out, Peter," MJ moved in close and leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

 

"I know," Peter absorbed the scent off her hair, "I'm just glad that I'm actually having fun at a Bugle job." Peter's eyes wandered to where Gwen was standing next to Harry. Harry was shaking hands, introducing Gwen. Her eyes met Peter's. He tried to smile and so did she. Neither succeeded.

 

"It's got to be at least a little fun, with Spider-man," MJ inquired. Truthfully she had a Spidey poster, it was rolled up in her closet and not on her wall. It had been hard to look at it, knowing Spider-man had put Mark Allan in prison. No, Mark had put Mark in prison.

 

"It can be," Peter admitted. The thrill of web-swinging across New York was second to none. He even liked the fighting, the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of victory. Not so much the hitting, but everything had its drawbacks.

 

"Can you just imagine what'd be like to have Spider-man's powers?" MJ wondered, "Do you think you could resist the temptations? Be a good guy like him?"

 

"I don't know," Peter smirked, "I'd like to think so. I don't think I could let down Uncle Ben or Aunt May."

 

"Yeah, you would say that," MJ smirked, "I'd be straight up supervillainess. Capture myself a nice little harem of attractive boys and live like a queen." The smile on her face had Peter giggling.

 

"Well, so long as you kidnap me early, I won't be insulted." Peter snorted. A couple of the other slow dancing couples gave him condescending looks.

 

"Eh, we'll see tiger," MJ laughed herself. The song slowed to a close and the dancers and many of the spectators fell into polite but genuine applause. MJ bumped Peter with her hip. She nodded to wear the Osborns and Gwen were taking the small stage. Harry stood a step behind his Mother's right shoulder. Gwen took her place behind Harry. Harry and Peter exchanged nods. MJ and Gwen made small waves to each other.

 

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Emily's voice was lilting, a sign of the red wine. She seemed apathetic, neither effecting a mask of civility or displaying any honest emotion. "This has been a trying time for us, and your support and affection has been most welcome." Ned appeared and Peter's shoulder, hand in hand with Betty. Peter slipped out his camera and Ned pulled a notepad from his breast pocket. "But we are here tonight to welcome a new interim CEO for Oscorp. Like many of you, he, in this time of crisis, has done his best to keep Oscorp afloat. I thank all of you for your many contributions and interest."

 

"Where's Donald Mencken?" Peter asked Ned.

 

"Who?"

 

"Mencken, he was Norman's second in command. Had access to more of Oscorp than anyone else." Peter informed, doing his best to keep his voice low throughout Ms. Osborn's speech.

 

"No one's seem him since the Goblin incident." Ned recalled. "Hey, that's a lead I'll have to run down. Thanks Peter." Betty made sure to pinch Ned's side when the intrepid reporter got too intrepid.

 

"He is a man of vision. He is a man of passion." Emily read blandly from her cue cards, "He will carry Oscorp into the future. Please, welcome with me, the new Chief Executive Officer of Oscorp: Mr. Roderick Kingsley."

 

The applause seemed as forced as Emily's display. Kingsley left his supermodel date by the side of the dais and walked up to the podium. Peter made sure to snap several pictures. Including the warm and visibly sincere hug Kingsley offered Emily. Harry's scowl was caught in several pics.

 

Roderick Kingsley faced the crowd and saw several unhappy stares amongst a sea of sycophants. Smythe he had expected, that kid next to the redhead made no sense. He had a camera and was standing next to a newspaperman. "I'd like to welcome you all to a new era." Kingsley had no need for tiny cue cards. "Oscorp will continue to march ahead of the curve, bringing the future to the present." He rambled off a hopeful and emphatic speech with nothing but pointless buzz words. He was a shrewd man with a keen eye. He saw the world laid out before him and he was ready to rule it. The applause he received after his brief say-nothing speech was raucous. Wearing a self satisfied smirk, he thanked Emily and Harry. The band picked up again.

 

"Alright! Now we just need a proper interview with Mr Kingsley," Ned was excited, "And we'll be set to enjoy the dates we unprofessionally brought with us."

 

"Great minds think alike," Peter agreed.

 

"Fool seldom differ." MJ caused Betty to laugh at their boys. Ned gave Betty a quick kiss and then was off. Peter and MJ exchanged knowing smiles and Spider-man ran off from MJ for the second time.

 

"So tell me about you and Peter," A territorial look covered Betty's smile as she led MJ to the refreshments table.

 

"I'm sorry, Mr Kingsley will not be speaking to the press at this time." the muscled wall in the black suit and sunglasses stood between Ned and Kingsley. Peter had tried cajoling. Ned demanded the rights of the press. Kingsley's personal security didn't budge.

 

"Grragh!" Ned Lee turned with a stomp. He wasn't a quitter but sometimes a step back was required before marching forward. Peter gave the security guard a stern look which resulted in a crick of Peter's neck. Tall men always learned to look down on short men. Peter wished to Spider-up and just show this meat shield a thing or two. He calmed down and followed Ned back to Betty and MJ. The brunette was laughing and MJ was animatedly telling a story.

 

"What're you ladies talking about?" Peter asked. When Betty met his eyes she couldn't contain herself. The crowd turned, wondering what could be that funny.

 

"Never you mind, Tiger," MJ smirked and grabbed Peter's arm. "Do you need him any more or can I take Peter over to Harry and Gwen?"

 

"Go ahead, I have to rethink my approach anyways." Ned did this by leading Betty back to the dance floor.

 

Harry and Gwen were finally left alone by the throng when Peter and Mary arrived. Harry eagerly commented on MJ's dress. She looked stunning.

 

"Not as good as Gwen!" MJ stepped over and picked up Gwen's wrists. The blonde was spun, posed and dragged. Gwen was wearing a pink and white dress. it was much less revealing than MJ's. Gwen's knees and breasts were covered. It was shoulderless and came with matching long gloves. Gwen was unsteady in the heels.

 

"You look beautiful," Peter said awestruck. Harry immediately grabbed Peter and pulled him away from Gwen.

 

"You're taking pictures?" He asked, almost hurt.

 

"Yeah, The Bugle had to send somebody, I figured I'd be able to check on how you were holding out as well."

 

"Thanks, Pete," Harry admitted, "I'm glad to see you doing something worthwhile. Not taking pictures of that father killing Spider-man."

 

"Har-"

 

"Get one with me between the girls." Harry interrupted before Peter could contest. He slipped his arms around the waists of both girls. MJ warmly wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and leaned in. Gwen's uncertain smile looked paltry next to MJ's siren eyes.

 

"Say cheese!" Peter raised the lens and only Gwen followed instructions. The flash stung Harry's eyes. A side effect of all the months on the green. It wasn't nearly as bad as it was a few months back.

 

"Who is this lovely creature!" Roderick Kingsley appeared. Lily Hollister was on his right, looking stunning in a shimmering red dress. On his left was the dark haired security man. Kingsley picked up MJ's wrists and held them up. It was a warm gesture. Peter's hackles rose, territorial of MJ and wary of

Kingsley.

 

"Mary Jane Watson, sir." MJ smiled prettily. She twirled in her skirt happily accepting the attention of the fashion mogul. Harry looked hungrily at the twenty-two year old Lily Hollister, his arm squeezed Gwen tight to his side. Peter stepped forward and the goon stepped in front of him. Kingsley waved the

man down.

 

"Come now, Jason," Kingsley said with a hand resting on the black shoulder of Jason's jacket. "I don't mind getting my picture in the paper." Kingsley offered Peter a disarming smile. Peter wasn't cowed. MJ was again the center of attention.

 

"Tell me, Mary, I can call you Mary?"

 

"Please," Smiled the redhead.

 

"Are you familiar with my work?" Kingsley asked with affected humility.

 

"Of course!" MJ beamed, "These shoes are from your latest collection." She kicked up a knee to show off the dark shoe. Peter moved in behind her.

 

"What do you think Lily?" Kingsley asked softly.

 

"She's just darling. Gorgeous." Smiled Lily Hollister. "You always have a great eye."

 

"Excuse me?" MJ asked nervously, "What are we talking about?"

 

"You're future, Mary." Kingsley picked a silvered business card case from his breast pocket. He produced a rose scented card and offered it to MJ. "This will let you get in contact with our modeling agent." Mary Jane's eyes threatened to bulge out of her head, she looked down at the card.

 

"Tell them, Lily, vouched for you." The blonde pecked the stupefied redhead on the cheek. "Now Roddy, I believe you owe me a dance."

 

"Of course, my dear." Kingsley allowed Hollister to lead him away from MJ. Peter had captured several pictures throughout the conversation. Each time earning the unhappy eye of "Jason."

 

"Congratulations, MJ!" Harry gave Mary a quick hug and then urged Gwen to do the same.

 

"I don't know what to say," She still had the business card in her hand. Scratching it with her lacquered nail doubting its veracity. Peter scowled at Kingsley.

 

"Something wrong Peter?" Gwen asked, the only one paying attention to the webhead.

 

"Nothing I can put my finger on," Peter declared.

 

"Well if you're done with The Bugle, let's say we ditch this snore fest and go get something to eat." Har declared.

 

"That sounds great," Peter said after turning to MJ who agreed with a nod.

 

“Cool, my treat." Harry said warmly. Peter shuffled off to find Ned and confirm.

 

 

 

 

The night belonged to the creatures that claimed it. Black Cat moved with celerity and grace. The satchel slung over her shoulder was loaded with precious gems and dog-eared bills. With Tombstone neutered and her own body responding so damned well, she had the opportunity and the inclination to

perform heists that had been too taboo, too dangerous and too pricy.

 

The alarm at the her back sounded only after she had exited the premises. The gap between security guards had given her a four minute window, impossible before augmentation, and now she had eighty-five seconds to spare. She purred warmly. There were a pair of Bastet earrings made of ancient Egyptian gold. They would match her Stuyvesant Tiger. Even in the moonlight, none saw her success.

 

 

 

 

The four friends were overdressed for fast food fare. Peter carried the tray to the table. Harry's dollar meant his muscle. He sat down next to MJ and across from Gwen. Harry was telling a story to MJ while his hand wandered on Gwen's hip.

 

"And then there was this sickening explosion. The pumpkin bomb screams stretched out across the night. I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe I had considered Spider-man a hero."

 

"That's terrible, Harry," Mary Jane wasn't feeling the fries she had been craving all night. She squeezed Peter's thigh as he filled the seat next to her.

 

"I'm doing OK," He said with a sigh, slurping from his supersized coke, "I don't know how things would turn out without Gwen." He kissed her on the cheek and she flushed. "But more importantly, You and Peter." He saluted his friend with his oversized drink, "And you look great tonight."

 

"Well," MJ said looking at Peter, "It's nothing so serious as that." Gwen felt a smile tugging but suppressed it. "We were both feeling down for losing our respective Allan's and needed a night out. But you're right, I look spectacular in this dress."

 

"Yeah," Gwen tried to be social, "I still can't believe that guy offered you a modeling job."

 

"What's not to believe?" MJ reclined, draping her arm around Peter. She blew on her knuckles and just looked as smug as she did pretty.

 

"No, it's not that," floundered Gwen, "you look great. But, I, ugh... nevermind."

 

MJ and Peter shared a laugh and Gwen's cheeks turned a shade to match Mary's hair. Harry's brow furrowed. He kept his silence with a second bite into his chicken sandwich.

 

"This night has been great," Mary announced, "First we got some good news at that downer of a party and then we ditched all the stuffed shirts for some real--"

 

The shriek of police sirens rushed passed the restaurant and Peter shot bolt upright. He was wearing his Spider suit under his jacket. He was ready to tear out of there.

 

"Yeah, go ahead, Pete." Harry nodded. "I know you need those Spider-pics for your aunt." There was something double edged in his tone. MJ stood up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the great night tiger."

 

"Sorry, you guys." Peter directed his apology at Gwen and rushed out into the streets.

 

"I really don't know how he expects to catch up with speeding cop cars." MJ dropped back down in front of Peter's untouched nuggets. "Thanks for the food Harry."

 

 

 

 

This had become Cat's most successful night ever. It was just cresting twenty after nine and she had pulled three separate jobs. She had safecracked papers from Oscorp, she'd burgled a private collector's antiquities, and she had just plundered a roll of Tri-Corps blueprints. She was feeling invincible and not a little frisky. The cops were so far behind her she felt giddy. All the night needed was something to celebrate. Something physical. She really didn't have anyone for a dirty fling so she was gunning for dirtier fight. She could feel the blood pumping hard in her veins.

 

"Whoa Cat!" Spider-man shouted swinging around a skyscraper to get in line with Cat. The moment he was out of sight, she tapped the red button and shrunk down to her regular size and function. She swung up onto a ledge of gargoyles, where they had shared a sweet kiss. Her grapnel gun hissed as it recoiled its line. Spider slid down in front of her, eye to eye, nose to forehead.

 

"What do you want Spider?" She had her boost in her back pocket and in the power withdrawal and the memory of her father in prison. Her voice lacked the playful timber of their usual exchanges.

 

"Whoa, kitty, claws down. I'm not here to fight." He promised, lifting one hand out in mock surrender. Of course his other hand gripped is webline, "I'm just looking to talk."

 

"Then talk." She crossed her legs, her body was screaming for Peter to look at the curves and strength, luckily his hood allowed his eyes to wander without him getting caught.

 

"There's just been a string of burglaries," She gasped in fake surprise, "And their trail leads straight to you. I just wouldn't want you getting nailed for something you didn't do."

 

Spider's sarcasm matched his urge to play. Felicia kept the scowl of her face. Damn he looked good in the red and blue. Still, she preferred the black. "I'm not for getting nailed for even what I did do."

 

"Why cat! How could you!" Spider jested. The Black Cat stood up.

 

"You'd be surprised at how easy it is." With a press of a button Spider-man's early warning system kicked in like meth addicted marching band. She seemed to grow as her cross kick swung straight for his abdomen. Spider-man dropped his line, only in the nick of time before swinging under and up on the Gargoyle. He had lost cat. Luckily his tingles didn't. He rolled forward, using his wallcrawling to hang on the nose of the Gargoyle as the Cat's second kick grazed his thigh.

 

"Wow! Cat! Where'd you get so--" He rolled across the glass as she dove in a tackle. Her grapnel bolt shearing the concrete right in front of his left hand as she swung off and away onto another building. Well if Cat wanted to run, Spider could chase. Webbing and weaving they crossed three rooftops before they collided together once more. Peter swinging in, not as hard as he might against another opponent, to deliver a double kick to Cat's hip. He yelped, unable to twist out of the way as she cartwheeled over his torso, her bladed gauntlets tearing across his chest.

 

"Cat please!" He righted himself onto his feet and stared across and the cat licked the blood from her claws. The deep red on her lips and the sensuous motion of her tongue pushed Spider-man's thoughts of the battle.

 

"Oh, am I playing to rough?" She taunted. She seemed so much more imposing now. Her stance was light and ready for motion, but her body seemed to be rippling with power, and her breasts were fighting a winning battle against the zipper of her suit. Spider gulped.

 

"I'm not certain you're playing at all," He said and she pounced. Spider managed to cut and dodge around her claws, getting a grip on her upper arm and thigh. He had meant to twist and throw her across the roof, but the growl she made was closer to a purr and the virginal spider-man let go of Cat's leg. He was as red as his mask, under his mask.

 

Cat managed to twist out and strike back. Her long leg, sweeping out under the spider. Parker jumped vertically. Firing two blasts of webbing hoping to hold down the cat. Cat's grace overcome the attempted arrest and she kicked off a green cased transformer after the landing Spider. Spider managed to roll with the tackle. Cat overshot and received a solid kick to her lower back. The old cat would have splatted on the roof. The new Cat manage to turn her fall into a roll into a handstand into a scissor kick. Spider-man just about cleared cat's furred calves but the kick caught and Spider-man was deposited hard onto his shoulder blades.

 

"You're quick Swinger," Black Cat licked her lips. She had Peter's right hand pinned on the gravel ceiling while she sat straddling his hips. "Oh, is that your utility belt?"

 

The quick turn of her lips and erection pressing into her thigh slowed Spider-man's reaction. Slowed but didn't stop. His web shot out and grabbed the leg of a water tower. "Bad kitty!" Spider-man said as the elasticity of the web pulled him away.

 

Cat clung on with nails and legs and swept on bladed thumb to Spider's throat as they ended up on his feet. She purred against his mask. Her thumb cut an arc up from his throat and under his nose, the flap of mask falling away.

 

"Cat! Listen!" Spider-man didn't explain as he felt her wicked kiss press onto his lips. He was upright this time and he still experienced the rush of blood to his head. Cat nibbled his lip as she retreated.

 

"Look Cat," Spider-man stuttered and Black Cat shrugged, a playful innocence in her eyes. "I'm confused and--"

 

"Isn't it obvious swinger?" Cat pushed his back against the water tower with strength Spidey hadn't expected.

 

"Uh, no?"

 

"Cats like to play with their food." This time her kiss was force and passion and Peter's eyes were wide under his ripped hood. She had the taste of peaches on her lips and her tongue was as sharp in his mouth as it seemed in hers. Peter's shoulder slumped, his hands at his side. Uncertain, he kissed back but did not reach for her. She pulled back, his glassy eyes unseen. "Mee-yow!"

 

A crisscrossed slash from her claws shredded the front of his chest once more. The pain was miniscule and the cuts were light. Blood was dribbling down his chest. Spider recovered his wits and lost them immediately when Cat ran her tongue along his wound.

 

"Cat!" Spider gasped.

 

"Spider..." Cat bared her fangs and bit her way up over his chest to his neck. Her teeth and lips teased his bare throat. "You owe me."

 

"And you said you'd never forgive me," Whimpered the Spider-man.

 

"I haven't," Another scratch ran under Peter's arm. He yelped, and jumped kicking off the leg to throw himself to the other side of the roof.

 

"Sorry Cat, but I'm not your scratching post." Parker wheezed.

 

"How else am I supposed to get your clothes off?" She slunk forward, hips rocking as heel was placed directly in front of toe. Her reddened claws rolled the zipper down until Parker saw navel. He gulped.

 

"I'm flattered, Cat," He said not taking his eyes off of her breasts and stomach.

 

"I like you Spider," Cat closed the distance and tiptoed her fingers over the damage she had inflicted. Spider remained still, unflinching. He was poised to jump but the tingles were quiet. "You also make me feel frustrated, hurt, alone, angry and betrayed." This kiss was light. Parker looked to her eyes, they were wet but not tearing. He kissed her back this time. Frustrated, he understood, Gwen on Harry's arm was one of Cat's heels stomping right through his heart. Hurt, he knew, he'd lost his parents. He'd lost his uncle to Cat's father. Alone, more than anything. There were too many friends and family he'd lost. He couldn't even share Spider-man with the few he still had. Anger Peter held back, it made him sick and worried and reminded him of Venom. Anger was still inside of him, just neatly packaged and bottled away. Betrayed. He was the betrayer. He lied to everyone. He didn't save Norman Osborn.

 

"Cat, I'm sorry, I am." The mask hid the tears in his eyes. "But I--"

 

"Don't be sorry," Cat pushed him till his ankles were at the edge of the roof. "Be a man. Be Spider-man!" She bit his lip drawing more blood, the kiss so violent his Spider sense was sending tremors across his skin. He pushed her off of him. He drank in her curves and her body language. Peter was going to say no, but he couldn't. He wanted her, but more importantly he wanted to be her friend again. If this is what she needed, this is what he would give her. He reached for his mask.

 

"No," She ran her index finger over the back of his hand. Spider glove split behind it. "Leave the mask on."

 

Cat turned to run again. Spider gave chase. He was feeling lightheaded and horny. He watched the muscles wave under Cat's costume. The taste of blood and peaches on his mouth was tantalizing. Cat whisked around the water tower. Her leap towards Spider-man was tingle free. Soon Spider-man was on his back, cat astride his hips with both wrists being held above his head. Cat was much stronger and fiercer that Peter remembered. He could throw her off but the rough tongue riding up his neck was hard to deny. Should he? Could he? These were questions Peter seemed unable to answer. He was speechless, which was just as well because he was under the effects of the warmest kiss he had ever received. Cat, literally, had his tongue.

 

Cat receded, a nip at his injured lip and against his smooth jaw. Teeth raked over his throat sending gooseflesh all over his shoulders and back. He breathed hotly because he had no words he could muster. Cat let out a low growl from the base of her throat. She kissed his chest where she had so recently raked him. Her body was flush against Spider-man he could feel her heavy breasts settled on his abdomen. Her finger slipped down from his wrists. The sleeves of his spider-suit falling off in ribbons. She was careful enough to leave the skin reddened but unbroken.

 

“Cat!” Peter pushed and rolled until she was on her back and he was caught between her legs. Cat mewled impishly, fluttering her lashes and looking deep into Spider-man with her ice blue eyes. She taunted him, begged him and diminished him with one little laugh. Spider-man kissed her.

 

For the moment, Peter had controlled, he could push and she would take it. He tasted her lips and dueled her tongue. There was an acceptance, a driving force in Cat's seeming submission. Spider-man was fueled as he became more passionate. He stroked her long platinum hair. His exposed web shooters felt cool against Cat's cheek. She shuddered. He touched her mask and she responded by pulling him by the back of the mask into her. They kissed and sighed on the hard rooftop.

 

“I've never done this before,” Peter forced himself to admit when he pulled up for air.

 

“Could've fooled me, Swinger.” She balled a fist in the tatters of Spider-man's shirt and pushed him back onto his knees. She never took her legs from around his waist. She ground her insistent sex against his overexcited erection. Her back arched, showing off her gorgeous figure as she rose up onto his lap. She pulled her zipper down to the lip of her lace thong. Spider-man took the hint, sliding the soft leather off of her breasts. Two perfect double-D’s rose before him the skimpiest of black bras. The hardness of her nipples visible in the small cups. Peter took them both in his hands and placed a kiss on her neck. Black cat was reclining back her neck, sending her praise and adulation straight up into the night sky.

 

“I love your hands, but you don't need to be so gentle.” Her endurance and strength were superhuman, she demanded superhuman stimulation. Spider-man was nervous, these were the third and fourth breasts he had ever fondled. Liz Allan had been accepting but nervous. He slowly acclimated to Cat's demand. Her lips and her voice formed inviting O's. Her left hand lay on his right, encouraging him. Her right hand was impatient, ready to shear the rest of Spider-man's costume away.

 

Peter continued because Cat had all the right encouragements. Her voice purred and called and pleaded and thanked. Peter felt he could do no wrong. He had no removed her bra, only brought it above and off of her glorious breasts. Her nipples were erect and thick as pencil erasers, wide circles of color faded palely into the flesh of the tit. Spider-man mauled and suckled. His erection felt stronger as he lost himself in the incredibleness of Cat's body. She ground on his lap. Her own voice oscillating with pleasure. She wanted to wait no longer.

 

“Wow! Cat!” Peter was panting and lolling as Black Cat brought her knee up on the inside of Peter's wrist. She kicked high, slowly, letting her strong leg rest vertically on his chest for just a moment. She then rolled off of Peter and slipped immediately behind him. Peter looked back as Cat draped herself over his shoulders, her breasts pushing against his shoulder blades. She let her fingers wander down to his pants. The bulge was obvious. So much so, Cat could believe the newspaper pictures she had seen of the Spider had been doctored by censors. Her claws opened the costume on his thighs. Her teeth sank into his ear. She begged for his cock and Peter shook and stained what remained of his pants.

 

“Oh, Spider...” Black Cat mewled insulted. She pulled down his darkened pants and revealed the sticky diminishing member. Peter sat bolt upright against her when she took him in her hand. The nails threatened but never touched. Cat raised her sticky fingers and suckled on them next to his ear. Peter was quickly finding his second wind. Before he lost his mind again he jumped to his feet standing over the Cat on her knees.

 

“Cat, this was...” He didn't know what to say. But the look on her face was impatient and uninterested in what he had to say. She rose up on her knees, not all the way, she was taller than the Spider before her enhancements. She captured his balls in the palm of her right hand, bringing her lips to Peter's revitalization. She slipped a tongue around the head, cleaning up his unfortunate first time while she pumped the base between thumb and index finger. Her left hand dragged his pants to the tops of his boots. Peter surrendered kicking them off. He also ripped off his shredded top and let that fall upon the rest of his clothes. Black Cat licked the cream and Peter was fully hard once again. She kissed the head of his cock tenderly. Peter's gloved hands went into her hair. She expected he would drag her onto his manhood. He tilted her neck back so they were looking mask to mask.

 

“This is something I want,” Peter sank down on knee keeping Cat looking into his face. “It isn't quite how I wanted it, but it is what I want.”

 

“I--” Cat pictured her father in prison. Earlier, when she had attacked him, there had been nothing flirtatious in the assualt. She wanted to hurt Spider-man but her dad's words echoed in her head with every blow.

 

“For years, the Cat Burglar took pride in never hurting anyone. I never even carried a gun.”

 

She knew her dad would never understand, but she also knew she had to hurt the spider. The blood on her claws and the scratches on her back and the heat in her veins brought her to this moment. Eye to eye with the most caring do-gooding jack ass she had ever met. She wanted it to. They kissed again, like first time lovers. There was passion, but there was gentleness. Cat pulled Spider against her chest. She squeezed his tight ass and felt him smile into her lips. He let his fingers wander through her platinum mane. They retreated a moment and Cat spoke. “If you want me, take me Spider-man.”

 

There was a heartbeat's hesitation in the Spider before he pulled the leather from her shoulders and dragged the catsuit down her arms. Cat snapped her teeth at him, taunting. She wriggled free of her gloves so the sleeves would not get caught at her wrists. She wasn't going to be tied up just yet. She stepped heels onto toes to slide out of her boots while Peter continued to drag the leather suit down passed her round ass and athletic legs. She was free, but for a bra pulled up over her breasts and a thong dark and dripping with her readiness. Spider knelt before her now and she grabbed him by the sides of his head.

 

Spider found himself lip to lip with Cat in a way he had never experienced. Uncertain and unwilling to admit it he dragged aside her thong. She stepped her left leg over his shoulder and reached back with her right hand to grab anything. Her knuckles turned white on the ladder of water tower.

 

“Swinger! Oh god!” Peter may not have been an experienced pussy eater but he was intuitive, a quick study and, most importantly, a scientist. He discovered through a run of trial and error where Black Cat shrieked, sighed, and gasped. His fingers, in their rough gloves. Explored inside. It was only a few minutes before the thief was rocking and grinding chaotically on Peter's face. Wetness rolled and dripped off his chin to his chest, stinging parts unhealed. Spider-man soldiered on. He parted Cat with two fingers, performing a come hither motion against the roof of her canal. Her nails, trimmed and lacquered but not made of steel, dug into Peter's skull. His Spider-sense tingled as Cat vibrated. She shrieked unholy hell and gushed over his upper lip and mouth. Spider stopped, and Cat collapsed forward, leaning over his head. Her weight slumped down on his shoulder.

 

“Ready for something more, swinger?” A minute or three had passed before Cat slid her leg off of Peter's shoulder. She reached down, steady as a surgeon, signs of her cataclysmic orgasm having vanished. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he was pulled up to his feet.

 

“There's no way I could stop now,” Peter admitted pushing Cat backward. Her spine lay on the cold ladder and she arched off of it. Peter saw her rise on her toes, feet apart. He wanted to drive into her and make her scream right then. In his inexperience, he slipped on her drenched sex. Cat cooed to slow his drive. She took him in her right hand, leading him in. Her other arm wrapped on his shoulders, elbow behind his neck. She looked him dead in the eye as he pressed into her. As he bottomed out her eyes closed and her mouth opened. She exhaled sweetly. Peter kissed her then.

 

Black Cat directed Spider-man with the roll of her hips. She now had him at the base of the spine. He gripped her by the right breast and the ladder by the third rung. Push in breath out, slide down breathe in. There was something indescribable to Peter. Cat slowly encouraged him faster. She bit down on his bare throat and smelled the Spider-man scent that came off his flesh. She adored the sweet smell of coppery blood, the light musk of Spider-man set her spine tingling. Her tongue traced under the ridge of his jaw. She kept closing her eyes as he pushed into her.

 

She was tightly gripping him. It was like she was made for him. Perfect in the way she held him. He wasn't sure what to think. Until he panicked. “Cat, I'm not wearing a condom.”

 

“I'm not sick,” She promised. But Peter was slowing down, paranoid or scared. “There's condoms in my belt, swinger. Go grab one, if you'll feel better.” She kissed his cheek and he slid out from her. The disappearance of his cock felt like when she turned off her power boost. She felt weak and scared. She wondered as Peter scrambled after her windswept catsuit. She didn't mind watching his legs and ass.

 

“Got it!” Peter found her belt quickly. The first few pockets had tools he'd rather not think to hard about. She was a thief after all. He turned back to her running across the gravel. She caught him in an embrace and kissed him. They tossed their tongues against each other with everything they could. Cat bit his lip on the retreat once again.

 

“Keep that up and I'm going to start liking pain,” Warned Spider-man.

 

“That's plan B. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.” Cat plucked the wrapped condom from his fingers. She tore it easy and sank down on her haunches and rolled the prophylactic down to the base. She held him in her left hand as she rose up. Her right index finger stroked up his throat and under his jaw.

 

“Cat--” Peter tried stepping in to press her back into the water tower. Cat kissed him no. She turned, bending down to grab her ankle, displaying her reddened dripping sex to Spider-man. She purred appreciatively when he braced himself on her left ass cheek and rose up towards her sex.

 

“You'll have to bend your knees a bit,” Spider-man said, embarrassed, but Cat eagerly complied without a smirk or a joke. He felt himself inside her and immediately understood why so many people complained about condoms. It felt great, warm, tight, but the feeling of perfection was gone. He tried to recover his rate, but he was feeling impatient and quickly gathered more speed and force that he had on his first go.

 

“No need to hurry, swinger,” Cat rose up, still bent at the knees and braced herself on the water tower. Her voice was ragged from the slapping of Peter's hips against her ass. Spider-man's strength was far beyond human and if Black Cat pressed her red button, she'd very likely be injured. She loved it. She cajoled and begged and used words that made Peter blush. He folded onto her back, reaching down to grab her swinging breasts. He pulled back and used his teeth to discard his gloves. The web-shooters were still there and they chilled Cat's belly. He squeezed her breasts, in love with their firmness and the hardened nipples. Cat called out Spider-man! She grew even tighter and there was desire splashing out of her with every outstroke from the Spider.

 

“Cat!” Spider-man was grinding his teeth, holding back as best as he could. Holding back his orgasm. The collisions of his hips and Cat's ass were echoing out into the New York night. This could be a show for some one in one of the nearby buildings but Spider-man couldn't care. So long as his Spider-sense stayed calm. He felt a pull, muscles tightening, in the sole of his right foot. He whispered something foolish against Cat's shoulder blade. She responded with need for his cum. Her knuckles were white on the ladder of the tower. Her voice was hoarse. Her balance was shot. Her right leg kept wanting to straighten. Her twitches were rotating her pussy around his spider. He let out one last “Black Cat” and then let out the last of himself.

 

Peter leaned down atop of Cat's sweaty glistening back. He had spent himself inside the condom. This hadn't been how he thought he would lose his virginity. It was very close to a few of the ways he imagined he would.

 

"Oh, swinger," Purred Cat. She lifted her left hand and stroked his mask. Her claw running down across his lip, thankfully not shredding his mouth as she had so much of his body, "You rocked my world."

 

Peter swelled with great personal pride. His spider-strength had left her backside glowing red. He fell back onto his ankles, letting her turn around. She lowered herself to straddle his thighs. She brought her mask down to his eyes and kissed him once again. Light and simple. She leaned back. He tried not to stare at her breasts and the bright red marks his enthusiasm had made. "Cat that was--"

 

The jingle rolling out from his costume's pants made the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand up. Black Cat was quite amused with his instant rigidity. The grin on her face could not have been prouder. "Your wife calling?"

 

"No, this Spider's a lone wolf." Crud, crap, shit! Thought Peter, he promised he'd call Aunt May before ten. He had lost track of time. "That's just an alarm, there's somewhere I had to be a ten."

 

"Oh," Cat let her fingers wander over Peter's lacerations. The blood had dried, but all the friction and sweat made his whole body sore and sting. "Well don't let me keep you." She gave him another kiss. His spider-sense roared and she left another set of claw marks on his back shoulder. He hadn't seen her pick up her glove.

 

"Ow! Cat!" He turned and grabbed his wounded shoulder. By the time he turned back towards her the Cat was gone, as was the catsuit that had been flying like a flag on the water tower. He smirked for a moment and then rushed over to his pants. Quickly, he dialed Aunt May.

 

"Peter?" She answered a mite worried, "Where are you, MJ got back a half hour ago."

 

"Oh, uh, yeah, I got held up taking pictures for work. I'm on my way home right now."

 

"Well, I know spring break is starting but you still have your curfew. Hurry home."

 

"Will do. Love you Aunt May."

 

Peter swiftly gathered up his costume. He sighed. With a thwip, he swung, instantly feeling all the nicks and scratches Cat had left on him. It wasn't fun swinging back to where he stashed the Tux.

 

"Aunt May?" Felicia Hardy had not run off naked, she had just ducked to the other side of the water tower while she slipped back into her costume. She found it wouldn't fit if she didn't shrink down first. "Did I just--I just screwed some school kid with a 10 o'clock curfew." She felt guilty and a little sick, but she swallowed that back down. She pulled off her right glove, there was an ampule behind each claw. Every ampule was filled with Spider-man's blood. She worried. He couldn't have been that young. He felt like a full grown man. Oh God! She was turning red and turning green. No, Spider-man was still the one who kept her father in prison. She had managed to settle her debt, get closer on her crush and pull three other jobs. So what if she just banged a high school kid. She was just 19 herself.

 

She fought with herself back and forth for a few moments. She rallied and headed back to the gargoyle where she had left her satchel. There was a small Styrofoam cooler filled with dry ice. She needed to get the fresh blood into it quickly. She felt dirty, and not the good kind of dirty.

 

 

 

 

Doctor Miles Warren was characteristically working late. He had begun tests on other types of electrolyzed DNA. There were difficulties in each stage. Primarily he was interested in arthropods. Spider-man showed no outward signs of his animal nature, where The Lizard and Kraven The Hunter both became mockeries of the animals from which they were adapted. Also the Lizard's primitive nature had affected Kurt Connors' brain but not Kraven's. He seemed to be getting nowhere. Well that wasn't true, part of science was ruling out what didn't fit. Even had he been paying attention, he would not have noticed The Black Cat drop in through the skylight.

 

"Doctor Warren," She said, rising to her full height. She was in her normal form. She hadn't reverted since she had climbed back into her catsuit. She was too sweaty and dirty to risk growing and pressing more of that offal into her skin. She wanted a shower.

 

"Oh, hello miss." Warren turned around, if he had flinched she had not seen it. She could tell, however from his stance that he was reaching for something in his belt.

 

"I have your samples." Cat extracted the small Styrofoam container from her satchel and placed it on the table. "The remote please."

 

"A moment," He walked over the Styrofoam but Cat scratched the black surface of the workbench with her claws. The whole room shrieked atonally. "I just want to examine a sample to assure its veracity."

 

"Of course," Cat opened the cooler and a wave of sublimated CO2 rolled out over the desk. Using the oven mitt offered by Doctor Warren she lifted out one of the ten ampules. Warren accepted it from her in a pair of tongs.

 

"Hmm," Warren said after examining a drop on a glass slide. "There is definitely something here. He then picked a test tube full of gene cleanser. Using an eyedropper, he applied six drops to the ampule and made another slide.

 

"Convinced?" Cat asked impatiently.

 

"Very." Doctor Warren offered her a congratulatory smile. "The remote is in my office." He turned towards the door and cat appeared over his shoulder. She smelled of blood, sex and tears. Warren said nothing. In his office, in the top drawer of his desk. Cat could have picked that lock with french fry, was the second remote. Identical to the first, except for a blue button.

 

"What's this button do?" She asked, expecting some underhanded scheme.

 

"The nanobots hold a cure. Press the blue and a gene cleanser will sweep your bloodstream killing all non-human DNA." Warren pushed up his glasses. "I trust that now that were even, you will consider my laboratory off limits to your thieving."

 

"I'll certainly consider it." Cat smirked and rushed out the skylight.


	2. 302 Gross

Hobie Brown volunteered at the Lincoln Dynamic Youth Center. He loved it. He loved working with the kids, he loved organizing and participating in their events, and he loved making a visible difference. The Lincoln Dynamic Youth Center kept kids out of gangs, off the streets, away from drug dealers and in touch with people who cared and listened. The Lincoln Dynamic Youth Center was doomed. It was ironic and sickening. The philanthropic act by the world's greatest criminal boss was to keep kids away from lives of crime. Tombstone's mask was shattered. The world new L Thompson Lincoln was the Big Man of Crime. The ATF, FBI, NSA and a half dozen other acronyms were watching him like a hawk. His assets were frozen, much of it seized. Putting him away would topple a criminal empire from the head, it'd be a great headline and everyone would celebrate. Everyone but the volunteers at the Lincoln Dynamic Youth Center and the 340 kids who needed the place. No more funding. Rent, power bills, cable bills, equipment costs, food costs. They only had til the end of September. You can only have so many bake sales, car washes and fun runs with underprivileged kids. The bills were just too high.

“It's not fair!” Hobie complained to Glory one of the other volunteers.

“I know Hobie,” Glory gripped Hobie on the shoulder, “The best we can do is our best. Help who we can help while we can help them.”

“The streets are crazy! We've been losing kids in dribs and drabs since the Goblin and--”

“I know you're worried, Hobie. But if you care that much, know you will make a difference.”

Hobie deflated. While the Youth Center stood, there was still work to do. Glory handed Hobie a mop. He turned and entered the front door.

 

Steven Levins left Rikers with an unenthusiastic slouch. He didn't have very much. There were seventeen dollars in his pocket along with the three condoms and two cigarettes. He was wearing the clothes he had been arrested in: a grungy green shirt, a pair of baggy black jeans, dilapidated running shoes and unwashed socks. The pumpkin mask had been confiscated as evidence. He pushed up the glasses that were slipping down his nose. The only thing he had ever gotten from his father was a name and from his mother he had his Korean heritage and some valuable life lessons. He had flushed those down the toilet by his third stint in juvenile detention. Steve was feeling pretty pissed off.

Prison hadn't been kind to Levins. He had been a guarded and cautious crook, until he had become the first of Goblin's pumpkin-headed army. Then he had been locked away in an island fortress with dozens of guys still loyal to the Big Man. His turned coat had cost Levins his cool head and three broken ribs. He was low man on all totem poles. The one chance he had to climb out from under heel earned him a kick in the face from the goddamned Spider-man. Now he was out. Five and a half months, two weeks early parole. The Big Man was down. Silvermane had no teeth. Goblin had died on his own bombs. The city was just waiting for her King.

He was walking across the bridge to Queens. Anger flooded his thoughts because neither his buddy nor his girlfriend had bothered to come get him. The wind off the East River knew spring was just around the corner and was doing its damnedest to get in what winter in it could. He was determined to spend his money on what he had been craving for his entire incarceration: the greasiest cheeseburger he could find. It was a long walk home.

The bus rides cut into his pocket change but Steven finally made it to the Bronx. It was just after eleven am and the sun was making the weather almost tolerable. Teeth chattering, he pushed into the dive he knew his buddies lived at. It had been some time, he'd been jailed since October, his two accomplices getting several hundred hours of community service. The Goblin made me do it! Please! I'm so sorry! Defense only seemed to work for young women with fake tears and goons whose fathers could afford actual lawyers. He was about to announce his entrance, as he pushed into apartment 6 but the sound he was greeted by shut his jaw tight.

She held her own ankle with whitened knuckles. She had torn one of the pigtails out of her red and black hair. She was still wearing her sleeves and dress. The hem was hiked up and bunched up over the tops of her tits. A pair of jeans still hung off her left leg. Steven's best friend plowed his girl. He was the one making noise, a gruff furious grunt, and sharp words that told the girl just how much she liked it. Steven closed the door behind him with a slam.

The girl jumped and his friend looked over his shoulder reaching for the piece in the track pants around his ankles. She covered up, crossing her legs over her sloppy red sex, his friend just waved his cock around as he recognized his old buddy.

“Steve! You're out!”

“You knew damned well I was out today,” His eyes ignored the girl as she scrambled to get dressed and decent. “I had to walk from Rykers!”

He looked around at the sty of the studio apartment. The ratty green couch was still there. The battered plaster was still picked away from the red brick walls. The rest was changed. His friend's bed, which had been more of wire and spring cot under a soiled mattress, had been replaced with an unmade king-sized bed. The sheets were pulled off at the right shoulder. The pillows mostly tore up from friction with the chainlink headboard. The handcuffs hanging from the wires told an interesting story. Their old TV, a shitty sixteen inch plasma with more dead pixels than screen had been replaced by a giant fifty two inch hi-definition flat screen with a massive sound system all around the room. The floor was still unswept but the moth eaten rug was gone. A pair of six hundred dollar spike heeled boots were kicked off in its place. Poster's of hot punk looking chicks with guitars and bare breasts adorned the walls. An interesting compromise between the two tenants. The desk, where they usually kept schematics and blueprints for their next job now had a massive gaming PC. Steven looked back to the friends. The girl was dressed again, shoving out her jaw uncompromisingly. Her eyes were full of fear. His buddy was adjusting his pants, making sure his hand cannon of a pistol didn't fall down his ass crack.

“Where's the money coming from?” Steven kept an unimpressed icy glare in reserve for the chick and directed himself at the guy.

“Goblin--” The girl immediately began but the man shut her down.

“Dude, you're on parole,” The guy said in a strong and steady tone. “You can't get too close yet. We'll cut you in once you've got a routine you can fake well enough that.”

Steven punched his friend in the face. He bulked up almost fifteen pounds in prison. He had been in shape beforehand, but now he was intimidating. The little fat he had was burned away in favor of slender, stiff, wiry muscle. He wasn't too much bigger, except around the chest, but he was stronger. The friend had been expecting the blow and had braced for it pretty well. He staggered back a step and collapsed as his senses rebooted with a quick flicker. The gun at his back hit the floor first and he grunted in pain as his piece forced the entire fall onto his tailbone. 

“You fuck my girl. You leave me to rot. You find yourself rolling in green and I'm going to back off and wait until you're ready to give me a chance?” Steven sounded very calm but the girl could tell otherwise. His friend had known Levins since the third grade. He was thinking of grabbing his gun. “Where's the money coming from?”

“We were working for the Goblin!” The girl shouted, ignoring the bloodshot look of death from the man on the floor. “Spider-man attacked when we were moving a truck for the Goblin. He,” She indicated the man on the floor, “Managed to get away from the docks without being webbed up for the cops. He stashed away an eighteen wheeler of the Goblin's arsenal. Spider-man had been pounding every crew of pumpkinheads he could find. We figured it was time to get out of the game. The money we got was from selling off Gobby-tech to other gangs.”

“What's left?” Steven turned his gaze on the girl. Her motormouth picked up speed.

“A little over half the truck. Two big things, several cannons. Couple drums of gobweb and all of the pumpkin bombs.” She took a panicked breath. Her cough made him smile.

“We're not selling anymore.” Steven turned to where his friend was considering whether standing on his own two feet was smart. “We're taking over this city.”

 

 

Peter Parker signed off his email. He had just sent the gala pictures into the Bugle. On screen were the many shots he had gathered of Spidey vs Cat. He was appalled, giddy and very very sore. An hour ago he had lost his virginity. He had memory stick full of photos to prove it. The distance had left a little to be desired, but the new camera he had purchased had so much detail he could count the freckles on Cat's left breast. Two. Peter began with the photos at the gargoyle, cropping and clipping so he had the best of the best. Twice he alt-tabbed over to the more adult sets. His scratches itched as they healed. 

The self-satisfied smirk on his face battled his uncertainty. What did this mean? What did Cat want? It couldn't be love, they had left their masks on. Could it be love? He never felt for Cat what he felt for Gwen. He never felt for Cat what he continued to feel for Liz. The Black Cat was the most beautiful woman Peter Parker had ever laid eyes on. 

The scratches all over his body stung. He had washed them out in the shower, but they had already scabbed and begun to heal by the time he had swung into Forest Hills. That trip home had been painful. His wounds had kept reopening from the tension in his arms. He must have misted an entire street with a trail of his blood. His spider suit was in rags, he had two spares, but the thermals he had worn underneath were going to be hard to replace. 

Money. There'd be some for the photos he had taken with Ned but choice Spider-man pics paid the best. He scrolled back, out of the pictures that showed off Cat's glorious body and into the precursors where Spider-man was taking a beating from the Cat. Jameson did pay more for photos of the webhead's defeats. He knew he could make money hand over fist with the pornographic ones. There were too many reasons why that wasn't an option. Cat didn't know she was being photographed. Peter was unable to take advantage of any woman like that. Also, his aunt's heart would break if Peter became some shameless pornographer. There were legal reasons too. The boy in those pictures wasn't eighteen. How old was Cat? She was a real woman anyways, and totally hot. Maybe he should stop being so proud of himself?

Uncertain and confused, Peter winced as he pulled his undershirt on over his wounds. It ended up on the floor before he could get his elbow's through the holes. He fell backward onto his bed. Well, Peter, He thought to himself, It has never felt so good to be hurt so badly. 

 

Steven and his two friends arrived at the stashed semi truck. The girl was wrapped up in an expensive fur lined winter coat. His buddy was still in his old rough and tumble wear. Steven's windbreaker was little use against the cold. He stomped his feet as his friend opened up the back doors. There were lights along the ceiling and the girl walked around to the cab to turn them on. The arsenal was big. Sixteen munitions crates of pumpkin bombs were on the left. Six of seven gun racks were empty. They stood behind four boxes of magazines and rounds. The drums of Gobweb were labeled with dozens of frightening labels. Steven climbed up and walked around checking on the things they had. At the back, there was the parts to the flying machines Goblin had outfitted his Gobsquad with. Two inhibitor cannons were in a green steel crate.

“I'm going to need our old B&E gear,” Levins declared coming back out. His friend was fidgety, thinking about the gun in his belt, “Plus a decent toolbox.” He had one of the Tri-Corp rifles over his shoulder. A magazine full of spiked munitions balls was jammed into the breach. “We'll take your car.”

“Steve,” The friend pleaded, “We've got a great thing going. We can make a killing with this. Enough money to keep us living like kings for years. We start using this shit and we'll have cops crawling up our asses until we're either dead or in prison.”

“And then we run out of money, and we fall back into the same piss-ant, petty theft, knee-breaking bullshit squalor we've been stuffed in for three years.” Steven sneered, “There's only one way to get respect in this city anymore. You need a costume and ambition. Adrian Goddamn Toomes was respected in the joint. The bloody vulture was a myopic old bat without a success to his name. Fight the Spider, live forever. Someone's got to pick up what the Goblin left for us. We're going to the top. And the only way there is through Spider-man.”

“What? Spider-man! You're fucking crazy. No, I'm taking--” The laziness with which Steven dropped the gun and fired was written across his face. His friend's voice rattled as he fell over with a wound in his chest. The girl watched on, all color drained from her face. Steven turned to her and said, “Get the car. I'll take care of him.” She nodded as Steven threw his buddy's body into the truck. A box of pumpkin bombs was dumped and he shoved the corpse into crate. The buckles closed and he stepped out to where the shell shocked girl was driving the car. He was wearing his friend's coat, the zipper still slick with blood, but it had been opened and dirty wasn't damaged in this cold weather.

“We'll need to pick up some cleaning supplies too.” Levins said as he closed the semi's doors.

 

“Mr Gargan to see you Mr Jameson,” Betty spoke in to the intercom as the private detective ogled her. He made her skin crawl, but she did her job and sent him in to speak with her boss.

“Much obliged, young lady,” He tipped his imaginary hat to Betty and walked in through the frosted glass doors to J. Jonah Jameson's office.

Robbie Robertson was standing behind his boss's chair to the right. They were sorting through Peter's latest pictures for the next scoop. Jameson had too excellent shots that both showed off Black Cat and diminished Spider-man. Robbie had talked him out of the headline: Trouble In Paradise.

“There you are you layabout!” Jonah put down his pictures and looked up at Mac Gargan. “I sent you after that Parker kid 7.3 weeks ago and I expect results.”

“Uh, actually you hired me last Thursday and--”

“I want results Gargan! Not excuses.” Jameson growled. “He clearly went after the webhead.”

“He, uh, left the gala with the Osborn kid and their girls,” Robbie narrowed his eyes at Gargan's tone and body language, “They were at a fast food joint. All of the sudden, the police fly by and he's off on foot after them. I followed, but lost him around two alleys.”

“You lost him? One high school kid on foot?” Jameson's anger was outweighed by his disappointment.

“He's a fast runner and he's much smaller. The street was full of people.” Gargan floundered.

“Enough of your excuses!” Jameson stood up and slammed his hands on the desk. “You want your next paycheck? You find out how that Parker kid is getting these Spidey pictures. Until then, I don't want to see your degenerate face in my office. I don't want to see you in my town! Get out! Get out!”

Gargan slipped off. Jameson sat down but didn't calm down. Robbie couldn't stay silent. “Jonah, we've got a half dozen capable investigative journalists. If you want this story why not put one of them on it and not some hack P.I.?”

“Parker knows our staff,” Jonah scowled, “He's bound to notice if a familiar face is tailing him. No, I'll leave it to Gargan for now.” He picked up a picture of Black Cat kicking Spider-man across the jaw. “Run this one.”

 

 

Spring Break brought visions of morally suspect college girls in sandy places getting more liquor and even more regrets. Spring break from Midtown happened from just before St Paddy's day through the beginning of spring. Harry took Gwen with him down to one of those tropical Gomorrahs. It was a let's-get-away-and-try-to-have-a-moment-to-ourselves-trip with his mother. Peter wondered how George had allowed that to happen. No Pete! Harry's in a bad place right now. He needs Gwen. Besides it's not like he's going to go Spider-man on Black Cat the moment they're out of sight, now is it? Visions of Gwen in Black Cat's catsuit caused his web swinging path to take a more erratic path than his usual smooth flight. Black Cat. That's why he was out tonight. The third night in a row hunting pussy. Hunting Black Cat. He swung by their usual hangout. The gargoyle was empty. Than he just followed his gut making random swings around the city. His camera had a handful of new Spidey pics and the NYPD had a dozen or so web-wrapped presents waiting for them on assorted lampposts and fire escapes. Another bust night. It was only 9:30 but he decided to make his way home.

What the hell? Peter was panicked to see his bedroom light on when he landed in the denuded tree in his back yard. Worse. There was a fiery redhead in his room! What now MJ? And why was she wearing the top to his spare Spider-man costume? Peter than noticed that nothing covered her legs. Eyes up top, Peter! What am I going to do? He quickly swung out of sight to think. 

It was about ten minutes later, dressed in his civilian threads, that Peter walked into his home with a half ton of icy butterflies in his stomach.

“Hello, Peter,” Aunt May muted the flamboyant television chef she was watching. “Mary Jane came by, I let her go up to your room.” Aunt May's smile suggested that Peter's secret was still sequestered to his room.

“Uh, what did she want?” Peter delayed a moment.

“Well, you'll have to ask her dear,” May smiled, in a little too knowing way. Peter suppressed a shudder as his overactive imagination recalled Black Cat's costume that time. “There's a plate of chocolate chip cookies cooling next to the stove. Why don't you bring those up to her?”

“Uh, sure, Aunt May,” Peter took the opportunity to go to the kitchen and grab the plate of cookies. They were still oven hot. Peter delayed the length of time it took to eat two cookies and drink one glass of milk. His death march upstairs was accompanied by his mental rendition of the Imperial March because it was close to the funeral dirge he was trying to think of but couldn't quite recall. He took a deep breath. He caught himself before he knocked on his own door. He walked in.

MJ jumped when he opened the door. She then caught her breath and gave Peter a stunning smile. Peter quickly closed the door behind her. The cookies he set down on the edge of his desk.

“Oh, Hey Pete,” MJ seemed oblivious to the fact that she was dressed in Peter's Spider-man uniform. She actually wasn't naked from the waist down. She had on a short skirt and socks. “I was hoping you can do me a favor.”

Not like I can say no now that you know MJ. Peter's heart sank, Well at least you're a good looking blackmailer.

“Oh, um, sorry I looked in your closet,” MJ said following Peter's eyes to her chest. “But if you want to come over to my place and put on my hot vampire dress, we'll call it even.”

Peter laughed, relief flooding. Wearing his own costume at the Halloween carnival had been done out of laziness. It had saved his secret identity twice now. 

“I think I'll take a pass on that, Red,” Peter said collapsing into his office chair and grabbing a cookie, “What do you need?”

“Excellent!” MJ's green eyes lit up and her smile seemed less leonine and more genuine. She grabbed her own cookie. “I went down to Kingsley's talent offices today...”

 

Mary Jane Watson was doing her best to sit quietly and wait in the hard office chairs. The old woman at reception said they were busy but would get her in shortly. That had been at 9 am. It was closer to 11 now. She was looking her best, Aunt Anna had helped with her makeup. Her eyes looked stunning, her lips were hypnotic. Her hair was still straight, but it framed her face perfectly. She wore her best fashions. Her legs were in knee-high leather boots with small heels. The black of the boots contrasted the pale white of her thighs. Her skirt was ruffled, and had cost so much that her father had gone ballistic when he had discovered that she had bought it. She was wearing a smart white blouse, trying to look good and professional, under a soft pink sweater that accentuated both femininity and girlishness. Every man she had passed that morning had looked a third time. She had felt unstoppable, now she just felt bored. Her manicured nails drummed upon Lily Hollister's face. The Magazines here showed off the models but were staffed with hackneyed writers. MJ had run out of interesting reading material some time ago. She looked up at the old receptionist. Good things come to those who wait. She told herself for the umpteenth time. Fortune favors the bold, she countered, loud enough to listen to this time.

“Excuse me,” MJ smiled prettily for the old woman and kept her voice pleasant, “I was hoping you could tell me if I would be seeing anyone anytime soon.”

“It won't be long now,” The woman said, not looking up from the Daily Bugle's crossword. 

“Spider-man,” MJ said.

“Excuse me?” The woman raised her face.

“Twenty-nine across.” MJ pointed, “The biggest threat to New York today. It has to be Spider-man.”

“Spider-man's a hero, darling,” The woman said, in a polite condescending tone.

“Well seeing the headline on the front page is 'Webbed Murderer Is The Biggest Threat In New York'. I figured the Daily Bugle might be carrying some sort of grudge.” The receptionist unfolded her paper and looked. She took a second look at Mary.

“You certainly got the face for the gig, darling. But there are better places to take that brain of yours.”

“Ha,” MJ was warming up to this old woman, “Maybe, but I can't just overstep an opportunity when it's laid at my feet.”

“How do you mean?”

“Mr Kingsley told me to come down.” MJ picked his business card out of her purse and laid it on the table.

“Really?” The woman's face turned a little cold.

“And Ms. Hollister said she'd vouch for me.”

“You could have named dropped their interest earlier,” The receptionist looking up.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to,” MJ admitted, “I like getting things done on my own merits.”

“But now...”

“I'm not so proud as to ignore help when it's offered.” Mary declared, “And I had them back pocket for when I hit an obstacle.”

“Way too smart for this circus,” Laughed the woman at the table. “I'll go back and scare you up somebody.”

“Thank you,” MJ smiled warmly. Mary took her seat once again as the receptionist phoned back. After a heated, but civilly volumed, argument. The receptionist flashed MJ a one sec gesture and went through the green doors to the back offices. It was about five minutes when she reappeared and held open the door for MJ. The redhead smiled her thanks. “Give 'em hell,” prodded the receptionist.

The back room was five offices and a picture studio. Earlier she had learned she was to look for a woman name Vaughn-Pope. The office was one of the two on the left, the big ones. MJ knocked, and was given a terse “Come in.”

“Hello,” MJ stepped into the office looking at the blonde behind the desk. “My name is Mary Jane Watson. I--”

“Am here for a modeling job,” Vaughn-Pope nodded, “Of course.” She was an attractive woman of perhaps thirty years of age. Tall and very fit. She was dressed in a smart and feminine suit. Black jacket over a lavender blouse and a long black pencil skirt. She had several dossiers heaped haphazardly on her mahogany desk. A vase of flowers was opposite her computer monitor. The bookshelves lining the far wall were filled with steel binders and chemistry textbooks. MJ pulled out one of the blue arm chairs and Ms. Vaughn-Pope indicated MJ could sit down.

“May I see your portfolio?” There was a tired feeling in the woman's voice. She skipped all pleasantness, neither introducing herself or providing MJ with her full attention.

“Portfolio?” MJ asked surprised. The sigh Vaughn-Pope gave was old hat.

“The pictures you've done to show that you photograph well. Usually from your previous experience.”

“I've never modeled before,” MJ explained.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“That's fine,” Vaughn-Pope's voice took on an even more condescending property. “To work for me.” She stopped herself. There was a harder edge in her voice when she continued, “To work for Mr Kingsley, you'll have to prove yourself. Get a professionally done picture set done. You should be photographed in several different outfits. A few shots in lingerie or swimwear would certainly help. We want to see everything: hands, eyes, shoulders, legs, cleavage. You'll want to be shot from all angles.”

“Can't we just give it a try in the studio?” MJ suggested, “I'm willing to try right now if you'll let me.”

“We can, but I'm going to ask that you pay the photographer for his time.” Vaughn-Pope reclined and looked over the girl in front of her, “We pay our photographers very well and if we just gave every girl off the street a free session, we'd be out a lot of time and money.”

“I'm not really off the street,” MJ responded, “Mr Kingsley suggested I come down.”

“And if he had sent word to expect a teenaged redhead I could make exceptions,” Vaughn-Pope clearly did not like Roderick Kingsley. “But for now I must ask that you bring in a portfolio.”

“How much will it cost?” MJ was feeling defeated.

“For one of our boys, you're probably, looking at around six hundred dollars and two hours of your time.” The older woman responded. “You're welcome to use someone else, but it'd help if the photographer was known. There are a lot of professionals out there who shouldn't even shoot a wedding.”

“I do know one great photographer,” MJ's lips turned into a smile for the first time since Vaughn-Pope had ripped the one MJ had carried in from the receptionist off her face. “Peter Parker.”

“Really?” Vaughn-Pope did not know the name, “And who does Peter Parker shoot?”

“Spider-man.” MJ declared triumphantly.

 

“So you're saying I get six hundred dollars?” Peter took another cookie as MJ finished her story. 

“You know I can't afford that, tiger,” MJ laughed, “But I really need your help if I'm going to get anywhere with Ms. Desiree Vaughn-Pope.”

“Well your certainly prettier than Spider-man,” Peter looked MJ up and down with affected lecherousness. “But I wouldn't want him getting all jealous.”

“Ah, poor Spidey,” MJ condescended, “But there's plenty of Peter to go around.”

“Well...” Peter delayed a moment longer. It's not like he'd say no but he just liked the attention MJ was giving him. Plus she filled out that Spider-shirt in ways that aroused, confused and embarrassed Peter. 

“I'll owe you so much forever. Please! Please! Please!” MJ fell to her knees in front of Peter. Her soft hands were cold around his. Peter could do little to stymie his imagination.

“OK, OK, fine.” Peter couldn't help but smirk as he pulled MJ up onto her feet. “Just take off my Spider-man shirt before Aunt May comes in and I have to explain this.”

“What? Don't I look good in it?” MJ laughed twirling for Peter. The shirt was taut around her chest but hung away from her slender waist. She was just taller than Peter so it lifted and showed a thin circle of skin above her waist.

“You look great. Now take it off.” Peter pleaded.

“In a hurry, tiger?” MJ teased, but she acceded. The spider-top came up and off her torso before she threw it at Peter's closet door. She was wearing a lacy green bra but no shirt. May knocked.

“Just a second Aunt May!” Panicked Peter, MJ strode to the windowsill were her previously unseen t-shirt was waiting. May didn't take her usual time waiting for Peter. The girl in the room had unbalanced the equation. Peter blushed and felt his tongue swell up when May watched MJ rush into her top from the doorway. There was a stern look on May's face but the twitch in her lip suggested she was hiding a smile.

“Mary Jane, do you mind heading home?” She asked sweetly, “I have to have a talk with my nephew.”

“Of course,” MJ was as red as her hair, “I'll see you tomorrow, Pete?”

If I'm ever allowed to see the light of day again, Peter thought worrying about being grounded. “Sure, MJ, good night.”

“Good night, May.” MJ left the room and hurried out the front door. May walked across the room and sat down on Peter's bed. Peter took his computer and sat across from her. The quiet and waiting was killing him. It was barely a full minute but it felt like a decade.

“Mary Jane is a great girl and I am very happy you found someone you like.” May began, “I was your age myself. I know how important love and even heartbreak is to growing up. You've always had a good head on your shoulders, Peter. I trust you.”

“Thanks, Aunt May,” Peter said, this talk wasn't going like he had expected. Ben had handled all this before and he had been comedic but serious. May was sentimental.

“I expect you won't go rushing into things that will get you or anyone else hurt,” She said to Spider-man. Peter slumped, “I know teenagers will find away to have sex. If you really care for the girl, I won't be disappointed. Both of you better be certain you're ready and you had better use protection. I love being Aunt May, I'm not ready to be anyone's Great Aunt May.”

“Of course, I promise Aunt May,” There was no real opportunity to explain that things weren't what they looked like. It was a promise he could keep, he was glad he had made it after the incident with Cat. Peter hadn't been ready for that.

“Well, good,” She smiled and squeezed Peter's hand, “I'm going to have myself the last cookie and get myself to bed. I love you Peter.”

“I love you too, Aunt May,” Peter handed May the plate, “Good night.”

 

Levins laughed as he kicked the second munitions crate into the East River. He was set. The truck was just up the street and he was outfitted with his gear. He had collected some excellent working materials with what his ex-girlfriend could afford. No sense in getting busted for stealing a power drill before he could get the suit ready. Gaxton and a few of his old contacts had put him in possession of some old police riot gear. His torso, crotch and shins were armored over his green coveralls. Steel-toed boots and weaponized gauntlets capped the ensemble. The motorcycle helmet under his arm had been custom scrolled and painted to look like a Jack O'Lantern. The perforated copper tubes and the second layer of insulation were his own design. 

Levins may not have been a great scientist or engineer, but he had always been handy with a welding torch and toolshed chemistry. He was mostly a second story man, a burglar. There was no real money in violence, so he had been slow to use it. Rykers had taught him better. Violence got you respect and fear. Respect and fear got you power and control. If you couldn't make a profit with power and control there was plenty of room left in the river. Giggling and bouncing with nervous energy, he put on the helmet and connected the copper to the reservoirs on his shoulders. He used his girl's pink cigarette lighter to set the fire. The flames rolled up his helmet like a Satan's crown. New York had its new king.

 

 

High school break did not coincide with ESU. Peter was on his way to Anna Watson's, dead tired after an eight hour shift at the lab. He had not realized how much Gwen did at the laboratory compared to him. She was off with Harry and Peter smelled of ammonia and stronger cleaners. His feet were killing him, he was looking forward to the leisurely swing home.

Peter healed faster than most but not immediately. The cat scratches on his torso pulled and tugged at him, reminding him about his encounter with the feline fatale. He must have played the scene over his head a half dozen times. He certainly perused the pictures every chance he had. He really wanted to talk to Cat. He did not have the chance to that night. The meeting before that she had said she would never forgive him. Peter was so lost in his own thoughts he almost missed the explosion. The shrieking pumpkin explosion. Suddenly, the cold cut through his thermals. White as a sheet under the red and blue, Peter looked to the green cloud and whispered: “Goblin?”

Laughing above the Bridge was a flame cloaked villain. He had a cannon on his shoulders and he was riding a glider. Only not quite. The glider was round, like a disc not streamlined like a fighter plane. It moved in spits and starts, kicking off of the asphalt or the railings. Riding its way up the suspension wires before jumping across. The cannon fired again, the ghastly scream and green blast shattered in the windshield of a Sonata. People were abandoning their cars. Panic struck.

“Oh, great, some Gobby-wannabe.” Spider-man swung in along the bridge. “But where'd he get the bombs?”

Another two shots and two more cars burst in shattered glass and wrenching steel. There were injured people below. Spider-man landed on the suspension wire across from the man in flames. “Hey Pumpkinhead!” He shouted getting the attention of the flaming Jack O'Lantern. “Halloween's more of an October thing.”

“Spider-man!” Laughed the man on the disc. It bounced and twisted with the movement of his feet. He couldn't keep it aloft for long but he seemed very good at moving how he wanted. “Just the hero I was looking for.”

“Well you were playing my song,” Spider-man thwipped across the bridge to get closer to the madman, “And I love to dance.” Three spits of his cannon and Spider-man easily dodged the bombs. They exploded harmlessly over the river. Spider-man took the opportunity to dive at the villain, aiming to put his shoulder into a scale armored chest and take the baddie down to the ground. His spider-sense kicked up like a rocket and it was all Peter could do to send a web straight down and pull him under and away from the geyser of bright white fire that shot just behind his butt.

“Yeow! Jack!” Spider-man twisted and turned, landing neatly on the roof of an abandoned electrical truck. He cartwheeled off and across a Mazda as the next pumpkin shrieked its explosion. The truck's roof was slag and shards. “Those toys are for the adults, Gobby Jr!”

A shot of webbing covered the mouth of the cannon, as the Jack O'Lantern skated down the far end of the bridge. Balls of fire chased Peter under and through the bridge's suspensions lines. He arced up and over aiming himself for a sharp double booted kick through Jack's chest. Jack had used the time to burn the webs off the mouth of his cannon. He fired six times, away from Spider-man towards the fleeing crowds. Spider-man had to twist and web to grab the projectiles, slamming them into each other. Causing shrieking green fire works above the bridge. Jack bounded across traffic and up one of the bridge's two arcs. He laughed as he sent bomb and fire at the webhead. 

“And now for the main event!” Jack skidded to the center of the bridge's first arch. He had dropped his shoulder cannon. In both hands, he held pumpkin bombs, big ones. He lobbed them down below the bridge. There was a steel tanker truck below.

“No!” Shouted Spider-man. “His spidey sense had rocketed from tingles up to rattles as he swung on one line and shot web balls at the bombs hoping to dissuade them from landing on the... milk truck? His spidey-sense had said it was an oil tanker. The bombs burst and the steel ripped; Peter was harmlessly splashed by fountains of cream. His spidey-sense didn't change and he looked to Jack as he swung under the arch. Dozens of pumpkins had been hanging just under the arch and now they fell atop Spider-man. Peter cursed as Jack's flamethrowers caught the bombs and the bridge was awash in green smoke, high pitched shrieks and explosive force.

Laughing the Jack O'Lantern rode away on his bouncing glider. 

Why do pumpkin bombs always come in hundred sets? Peter Parker rolled battered but not beaten from under a station wagon. All around him was twisted metal. The Jack O'Lantern was gone. I wish I collected stamps instead of super criminal villains. Then I'd only have to worry about constant near fatal beatings from Flash Thompson.

Peter looked around. Jack had left him with two choices: search and destroy or search and rescue. He began pulling open car doors and roofs.

 

“I'm sure Peter will be home any minute. He called when he left ESU,” May Parker smiled as she opened the door for Mary Jane Watson. The young woman was dressed a bit more conservatively that she usually did. Her skirt actually reached her knees. May took Mary's winter coat. MJ wore a warm fleece hoodie and her usual leather boots.

“Oh,” MJ had hoped to avoid any weird moments with May. The redhead swallowed her nervousness and asked: “Pete told you what happened last night?”

“Don't worry about it Mary Jane,” May led the girl through the living room, “Peter and I had a good talk.”

“Oh, good, I didn't want you to think I was that kind of girl.” MJ sighed, “Funny, I don't usually care what people think of me.”

“You always care, dear,” May smiled and offered MJ a cup of coffee, “You're just one of the few sensible girls able to realize which opinions actually matter to you.”

“Well you and Aunt Anna are the ones that seem to matter to me.” Mary sipped her coffee. She preferred less cream and more sugar.

“Why thank you, dear,” May drank her own coffee, “But you don't have to worry about me or Anna. She's family and you swept me off my feet months ago.”

MJ laughed at that and sipped her coffee. “I'm glad to know you and Peter. I don't know how I'm going to pay him back for all his help.”

“What help?” May raised her eyebrow quizzically.

“For the modeling job. He's helping me shoot my portfolio.” Mary Jane explained. “I thought you said you and he talked.”

“About the half naked girl in his room.” May's smile tempered the flush in MJ's cheeks. “Tell me about the modeling.”

 

 

“Hi Aunt May, I'm home!” Peter sighed exhausted as he walked through the front door of his home. He had been helping on the bridge for almost an hour. Up until the police finally were able to turn their attention from the wreckage and towards the spider. It was a fortunate exit. Had he waited any longer and his webbing would have dissolved and dropped his camera into the river. He entered his home with a hunch, prepared to march up to his bed and fall face first into a nap.

“MJ's been waiting up in your room for forty-five minutes now. Where have you been?”

“There was an incident at the bridge, so I took some pictures.” Peter waved. “It was pretty busy so I never had the chance to call in.”

“Well, you promised this girl your best work,” May looked back down to her novel, “And I'm sure it'll be much more relaxing taking pictures of her than of Spider-man.”

Peter's mind clicked on: The modeling pictures! The fight with Jack had completely wiped his memory. May ineffectually asked him not to run in the house as he vaulted up the stairs. Second door on the left and Peter skidded into his room on sock feet. Mary Jane Watson nearly jumped out of her skin, but only made it to her feet. Peter blinked, the pictures of Spider-man and Black Cat were on his monitor. The door slammed and the monitor of his laptop snapped shut.

“Uh,” MJ stepped back from Peter's dashing reaction, “I was... I was looking to see the photos you had taken and I... I... Uh... Wow.”

She brushed her hair back and played with a few strands over her shoulder. She was finding it difficult to look at Peter in his eyes. Peter wasn't angry like MJ suspected. This had been the second time she had abused his privacy. First she had pulled his spare Spider-suit out of his closet and now she had rifled through his computer files. Two reasons to be angry with her, but in fact he was embarrassed. She had just seen pictures of him naked. She didn't know it was him but even his intelligence was missing that small detail. He tried not to hyperventilate.

“Peter?” MJ took a step forward, still two paces away. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Peter lied. He was hurt. He sat on the foot of his bed and then collapsed backwards. Mary Jane walked to the side of his bed, looking down at him, concern and sheepishness on her face.

“I can go.” She said, “Come back and--”

“No, let's get this over with.” Peter sat up. “Just let me email the new pics to Daily Bugle.”

“New pics?” She asked as Peter stood up and took his camera from his pocket. He slipped out the memory card and inserted it into his computer. Mary leaned in over his shoulder. He quickly Alt+F4'ed all of the picture files she had opened. Not all of them racy Cat photos, but all of the racy Cat photos. His cheeks were burning red. She let out a small laugh and he gave her a flat glare.

“I'm sorry, it's just, well, Mark acted the same way when I stumbled across the porn on his computer.” She gave a sigh, “I miss him.”

“He's getting the help he needs,” Peter wanted to sound helpful, but his voice cracked and his palm was sweaty when he tried to pat the hand she had on his desk.

“I know,” She gave him a smile, “So who's the pumpkin guy?”

“I don't know,” Peter's files were now up on the screen. The camera was damned good at capturing movement. “But he's got a lot of goblin weapons. I think he must have been one of the squash brains that Gobby--er the Goblin had recruited. Thing is, there were a couple hundred thugs in all.”

“Oh,” MJ tilted her head, “Did he light his helmet on fire?”

“Yeah, bad guys aren't always known for their safety concerns.” Peter sighed leaning back. He had to crop a few but he finally came to five pictures that were clear, action packed.

“Don't you have any pics where Spider-man's kicking this guy's gourd?” Mary sneered.

“That's the thing, Spider got pounded.” Peter sighed. He really needed someway to follow his enemies. He had only accidentally discovered Goblin's identity because he had left something at Harry's. And even then the Norman had kept him guessing for months about the real man behind the mask.

“Well Spider-man's just going to have to dust himself off and make this goblin rip-off into Pumpkin Pie.” Mary Jane declared. Her tone suggested that it was just that obvious. Peter wasn't so sure. He attached the files to an email and sent them to the Daily Bugle's City Desk.

“Alright,” Peter leaned back and found the back of his head landing on MJ's chest. He rocked forward immediately. Mary Jane smiled. Peter swiveled and looked up and down the redhead. Gorgeous, Kingsley might be an ambitious, cutthroat, corporate shill but he did know a beautiful woman when he saw one. “What do you need me to do?”

They first set up the room, Peter's blue painted walls were a decent backdrop against MJ's hair and skin. The lighting was at first abysmal but switching the bulb in his reading lamp for a higher wattage and using the mirror above his dresser he managed to flood the room. His bed they pushed up against the door. Peter managed to keep everything important out of sight, spider-sense be praised. Peter plugged in his camera under the light and attached a better lens to the front of it.

Mary Jane loved the camera. The camera loved Mary Jane. Cliché, maybe, but nonetheless true. She became wild, mischievous, seductive, innocent, aloof, and anything else all the while drawing the lens to her shine of her lips, her green of her eyes, the curve of her throat, the white of her teeth, the fire of her hair, or the curve of her figure; every inch of her was intoxicating.

Peter took a knee. Peter stood up on his chair. Peter leaned and darted and zoomed and aimed, but all the while clicking and capturing Mary Jane. She shed the hoodie, revealing a light pink camisole over a lace green bra. Peter swallowed. MJ smiled. The camera clicked. The dance continued.

The light and closeness of the model was causing Peter to sweat. MJ seemed untouchable. Truthfully, she was fighting every nervous fiber of her being. Her mouth felt dry and the hairs at the back of her neck stood up. Peter's camera felt like attentive hands all over her, leaving nothing untouched, leaving nothing unseen. She spun her nervous wool into photographic gold. Peter took several photos of Mary Jane on the corner of his bed, peeling off her black leather boots. Each leg kicked up near vertical, each inch of her showed off perfectly. The camera consumed every moment. 

MJ fell back on the bed. It was tiring but not difficult. The room was stuffy. She looked to Peter and saw just the cyclopean flash of the camera. One or two pictures of her wiped out wouldn't mar the others. The wheels of Peter's computer chair rattled as they rolled across the carpet.

“Peter you'll fall!” MJ went to sit up but Peter told her to lay back down. He had been using that authoritative voice the entire situation. MJ's head on the pillow told her it was working. Peter was on his chair, kneeling not standing as he took bird's eye photos of Mary Jane.

“This one'll look great if we flare your hair out.” Peter pulled the camera back looking at the view screen.

“Really? OK, do it.” MJ closed her eyes as Peter stood over her immobile. Her breath was cool and steady. Her mind was racing. Peter was entranced. Touch her? He had a gorgeous girl in his bed and she wanted him to touch her. Well she wanted him to spread her hair out over his pillow. It was only a momentary hiccough. There was a feeling of confidence in Peter. It had been growing since the night with Black Cat. He ran his fingers through red hair, leaving it in waves over his pillow and his bed. MJ kept her placid cool. 

MJ kept her eyes firmly shut. His warm fingers in her hair. A breath shuddered in her throat, her eyes tightened a bit more. His hands felt so good. She breathed slowly but forcefully. She almost chased his fingers as he retreated.

“Alright, give me your best,” Peter said stepping back. He climbed his perch and got the first shot off as MJ slowly opened her deep green eyes.

“How many shots do we have?” MJ asked. She had done her best job at sexy and she was itching to see if she had any success.

“Almost a hundred and twenty,” Peter responded after checking with his camera.

“OK,” MJ breathed out, “Let's take a look before we go further.”

“Further?” Peter asked to no answer. Desiree had asked for lingerie pics. MJ wasn't quite prepared to ask Peter for those. She would, if she was confident with the original set. Peter went without answers. He slid the memory card into his computer and they began clicking through the pictures.

“Wow Red! You look amazing!” Peter admired with MJ leaning over his left shoulder. “If Jonah gets his peepers on these, he'll never accept another one of my blurry Spider-man pictures again.”

“They do look really good,” MJ leaned in and hugged Peter around his shoulders. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Peter smiled goofily as she kissed his cheek.

“I guess I have to go all the way then.” MJ sighed. She had butterflies in her stomach but stars in her eyes. Peter turned around and his eyes widened as MJ pulled off her tank top. She then unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Her initial response was to cover her breasts with crossed arms but she chose to put them on her hips. Peter's eyes goggled over her breasts and hips and every other bit. She wasn't even wearing showy underwear. Her panties were boy-cut and pale green under a white waistband. Her bra was half cup and laced with flowers. It matched the bottoms in color and trim. Peter wished his wall was a bit darker. The lighting and contrast would have her bright eyes popping out and beautiful.

“Peter? Can you pick up your camera instead of just drooling over me?” MJ asked, the fingers on her hips were starting to tremble. Peter had seen her in her underwear, well her bra, last night. She was feeling confident in herself and she was flattered by his reaction. Those stomach butterflies must have weighed a quarter tonne each. Peter reloaded his memory card.

His directions came out of a dryer mouth. MJ followed, kissing, smiling, laughing, and everything else for the camera. Low and high, back and front. Peter was going to hang on to these pictures. Thirty shots and MJ was being directed back on to the bed. Peter recalled the old pictures and tried to run her hair to the same positions. She let him place her arms. She resisted for only a heartbeat when he moved her legs back to the same spot. Her green eyes watched Peter with every breath. She had been more nervous behind the protection of her outer layers. She felt hot, horny. Peter was cute. Her mind was running away. She liked the strength in his voice. Peter only seemed to be in control when he was too distracted to overthink the conversation. He was smarter and funnier than any other guy she new. She missed Mark. A nagging voice told her that Peter deserved better than to be her melancholy distraction. This was becoming too intimate. The camera clicked away above her. The faces she showed to Peter not matching a single feeling inside her.

“Are we good?” MJ asked in a sharper tone than she wanted to. Peter blinked in surprise. Peter recovered.

“Well you're going to need to get these printed out.” Peter said flicking through the camera. “And you'll probably want to cut out a little over a hundred of these. But the photos are done.”

MJ picked her clothes off his floor, she was pulling into her sweater when she was done. “Thank you, Peter.” She said, her tone still clinical, officious. “I'm feeling a bit tired. I'll talk to you soon, we can get all this sorted out.”

“I kind of figured we could go through the pictures toni--” MJ interrupted Peter by attempting to drag his bed away from the wall. “Alright.” Peter reached under the bed and pulled it to the center of the room with a little too much of his super strength. MJ muttered another thank you and rushed out the door. Peter followed her but only reached the top of the stairs before the front door swung shut.

“Peter?” Aunt May looked up as her nephew trudged down the stairs. “Everything OK?”

“I have no idea.” Peter sighed.

 

“Did you want to come up? For a cup of coffee or--” Betty Brant walked backwards up the steps into her apartment complex. Ned Lee followed behind her. She was dressed for their dinner date under her fake fur lined winter coat and white tuque. Her fingers were vibrating, cold. Her knees were all but knocking. Her brown boots and skirt leaving them open to the elements. Her offer hadn't been uninterrupted by anything fun. She just found Ned thumbing his way though his iPhone. More Goblin questions and research. She stepped down to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the lapel of his jacket.

“We're here?” He asked surprised.

“I'm here,” Betty said with a sharktooth grin, “And if you're here you might even get laid.”

The iPhone disappeared inside his pocket and he chased Betty up the stairs. Her swipe got them through the front door. Betty found Ned's fingers in her own, she was nervous and excited. She bounced on the balls of her feet as the elevator doors slid open. Ned absently hit her floor and pushed her against the back of the elevator. He had her hand pinned over her brown hair. He had her lips pinned under his own.

Betty Brant, beautiful brunette, was blissful. She hadn't been kissed like this before. Ned was attentive, passionate and relentless. She tangled one hand in his rough hair and grabbed tightly his belt. His tongue skated along her lips before delving into her mouth. She almost purred, she pulled him in tighter. She adored the feeling, loved being pressed up against the wall, unable to escape. She bit back, hungry for more. The floor shuddered and they were at her floor. Betty hadn't realized she had been pushed up onto her toes until Ned stepped back from her.

“Betty--” Whatever he was going to say was unimportant, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hall to her apartment. Keys, lock, knob, push. She spun as the door opened and pulled him into the small one bedroom. They stumbled passed her kitchenette and she dragged him left to the bedroom leaving the modestly decorated living room behind.

Ned needed no encouragement. The fire Betty had lit propelled the two of them into her bedroom and onto her queen sized bed. She fell backwards, underneath his affection. He had kicked his shoes off, but both were still dressed for winter. She felt the nibble on her neck as she tossed aside her hat. She tugged at the jacket on his shoulders, gasping a little as his mouth receded from her ear so he could struggle out. She whispered her entreaties, she demanded so much more.

The struggle to get undressed was often interrupted. Betty's boots were pulled clear but she then rolled Ned back onto her bed, needfully pressing her kiss onto his lips. He rolled them onto her back, nearly off the bed. Their kiss broke with two knowing grins. He stripped open her jacket and she wiggled upwards and out of it. He swept it away, knocking over a picture frame on her nightstand. They fell back into bed, hands and mouths unceasing.

Betty was a magnificent woman. She put a lot of work into her body and it paid off brilliantly. Her stomach was hard and athletic but her skin was soft and her breasts were small and firm. Ned squeezed and caressed her through the pale blue top. She arched her back, pushing her body into his hands. He kissed her throat, along her dark choker and down to the pit between her collarbones. She whimpered, hands knotted in his hair.

Slowly but relentlessly, clothes fell away. Ned scrambled out of his shirt. Betty wiggled out of her skirt. Betty used her nails to trace along Ned's chest, she was already warm and wet but he looked as good naked as he had hoped. He grabbed her shirt, rolling it up and over her tits, willing to stop there as he pulled the cups down and away from her peaked red nipples. His kiss found her chest as she struggled the rest of the way out of he top. He massaged and bit and kissed his way across from one sensitive breast to her other. She urged him to stronger touches, harder kisses, deeper bites. She liked the force he had upon her, she reveled in sensuality.

She bucked as his first fingers pulled her black g-string down her thighs. The coldness of his belt pressed down against the top of her pussy and she shuddered. Wetness covered her sex. Saliva covered her breasts. Betty pleaded for some release. Kisses wormed their way down over her stomach, stopping at her navel. She tried to withhold her ticklish giggle. Her knees came up as her panties slid passed them. Ned continued, kissing down her thigh, frustratingly missing her pussy. She hissed disapproval and impatience. He smiled up to her light green eyes.

“God Ned!” She pleaded as he retreated far enough to kick away her panties. She rose up on her elbows, spinning the offend bra that had fallen to her navel and pulling open the hooks. Naked but for her choker and her earrings, Betty started fingering her own clit. Ned returned, kissing his way up her other leg towards her needy pussy.

The first kiss against the side of her pussy lips was like a lightning strike. Betty's whole body tensed, raring for release. Ned's tongue lazily trace it's way across her opening. He bit her knuckles until she retreated giving herself completely to his attentions. She grabbed her breasts, tugging on their reddened tips. Cool breath teased her sex. She writhed from side to side as Ned's hands pushed her thighs open. She hadn't been spread so wide since middle school gymnastics. It began to hurt but that just meant there was more sensation. 

Ned consumed the taste of Betty Brant. There was a spice to her, something exotic, something undefinable. He licked up and down on her. His nose pressed her clit and his tongue invaded her. Betty gasped, the first onslaught of orgasm rushing over her. Teeth grazed over her sensitive flesh and she shrieked. Ned jabbed a finger inside of her as her whole body came. She rolled up on one shoulder, her fingernail scraped her breasts. Her toes curled inward. Her knee jerked angrily. He wouldn't stop. He kept licking, sucking, teasing, and finding every one of her triggers. Her clit was stuck between his lips and she begged until her throat was hoarse.

Breathing in fits and gasps Betty's bedroom grew color out of its pure whiteness. Her eyes were wide open, seeing nothing. A finger stroked along her pussy, so sensitive it made her skin tingle.

“Fuck me, Ned,” She rose up on her shoulders and looked at the devil's eyes floating over her curly hair. “I need your thick cock.”

Ned stood, still clad in his pants and boxers. He was only undoing her belt. Betty rose up to sitting and rushed down to the foot of her bed. Her ass slipped through her own wetness, still warm on her comforter. She couldn't wait for Ned's slow ministrations. He had barely stepped out of his trousers. She ripped down his boxers and grabbed his attentive cock. She leaned forward, biting and kissing his pectorals and nipples while she rolled her hands over his warm spear. She was a light touch, teasing gentle, enraging. She cheered giddily as he picked her up and threw her back upon the bed. 

Betty's foul mouth enticed Ned to climb up and over her. He laid kisses from her curly hair up along her belly and in between her breasts. Two fingers attacked her dripping pussy. Another hand held her down by her shoulder. Her eyes compelled him to mount her.

“Hungh!” Betty winced as Ned breached her pussy. She was tight, no virgin but not widely experienced. She gasped as he bottomed out, the feeling of fullness invigorated. Her knees fold back, almost touching her bed to either side of her. Her hands reached up, setting at the small of his back as they led him into and out of her. Slow full strokes filled her. Her eyes fluttered closed. They kissed and then he settled his forehead next to her ear and gathered power and speed.

His back glistened with sweat and moonlight. Her body tremored with aftershocks and promises. She loved the feeling, she adored the power. Betty bit into Ned's ear. The pain a signal to him, he read it loud and clear. Their bodies came together with loud powerful collisions. The slap of flesh and her calls of pleasure forming a depraved harmony. She was still so raw from his cunnilingus. The power and the pleasure built inside her. 

Her second pleasure hit her like haymaker. Her body tensed and shuddered. The feeling like every nerve ending was exposed. Ned still pinned her to the bed. His other hand twisting her red and battered breast as he himself crested his hill. She gripped his cock like a vise. She was unwilling to forfeit the pleasure of being full. She needed the hardness inside her as she trembled and whimpered. She whispered dirty things in his ear.

“I want to come,” Ned growled into her blankets.

“Then come, fill me more,” Betty murmured through her orgasmic haze.

“Let me pour it all over you.” He begged. She didn't want to let go of the feeling she had. She always preferred sex to porn, no matter that both of her previous boyfriends were like Ned. She pleaded for him to come, but she had been adoring his control of her since he had finally put down his phone.

“I'll swallow it,” She compromised. He was already pulling out of her anyway. She recoiled a little at her taste, still dripping from his red and raw cock. He had climbed up, kneeling under her armpits as he jerked towards her face. She made sure to look him dead in his eyes as she slipped her lips around his head and foreskin. Her tongue moved seductively inside her mouth, the taste of his prerelease sticky on the roof of her mouth.

“Betty!” He gripped on hand into her hair and pulled her further onto his cock. The first jets of come splattered inside her mouth. She tried to swallow but only snorted and cough as he continued to pile his seed on her tongue. Finally he settled. Sitting back above her belly as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and forcibly swallowed the come he had left in her mouth. She looked at him with bloodshot and teary eyes. Her smile told the truth. She had savored tonight.

 

 

A few hours before sunrise, Betty rose up in her bed, alone. Ned had not! She swung her legs out of bed, wearing only the moonlight that slipped through her open curtains. She was too offended to be hurt yet. Every guy, every damned guy had only ever wanted one thing from her. She marched out of the bedroom and found Ned sitting on her sofa. He hadn't left. She felt guilty and a little stupid. Her scowl perking up into a devilish grin as she slunk into the living room and slipped herself around Ned. She was looking over his shoulder and onto his phone. He was looking over schematics of the Goblin's Tech-Flight glider.

“Mr. Jameson's going to flip when he finds out you're still working on a closed story.” Betty squeezed Ned's shoulders.

“There's more to the Goblin story than we got to see, Betty,” Ned declared.

“You still have Spider-man on your plate,” Betty pointed out.

“Spidey's not going anywhere,” Ned flipped the page to look at the pumpkin bombs. “And with the Jack O'Lantern character: we can be certain Goblin's not done with the city yet.”

“Norman Osborn is dead.” Betty explained, “Come back to bed, Ned.”

“I'll be along in a moment.” He kissed her cheek and turned back to his iPhone. Betty felt worse getting back into bed than she had getting out of it.

 

 

“Captain?” Jean DeWolff stepped out of George Stacy's way as he marched into the burned out tenement. Green powder burns and scorch marks were covered in concrete dust and shattered glass. The Jack O'Lantern had struck no fewer than five such hideouts last night. Quick, almost surgical attacks. The dead were all pimps, drug dealers and street muscle, but dead bodies in his precinct were unacceptable. Stan Carter was watching the lab geeks collect samples and take pictures. There wasn't a whole lot to be done here.

“What do we know about Jack O'Lantern, sergeant?” He asked Stan.

“Jack, Captain,” He pricked up a quarter of a smirk before Stacy's glare wiped it off his face. “He's busting up some pretty heavy hitters. Anyone who seemed to be carving out a space for themselves now that Goblin and The Big Man are out of the picture. Seems to come in and just wreck the place before leaving. We found a few people who managed to run, he doesn't seem to concerned about chasing people down.”

“Leave one alive and people will know what you're capable of.” Stacy nodded. Vikings used to use that tactic. “Any hint on where he's hitting next?”

“There's three pretty big targets,” Carter said, “I've set a extra patrol cars in each area. If he hits them, we'll know.”

“I hate being reactive,” Stacy grumbled. “You and DeWolff go on and get some sleep. I'm sure there'll be plenty for you to do come night time.”

“Captain,” Carter accepted his dismissal and left picking up his partner at the doorway.

 

 

Peter was elbow deep in a sink full of dirty glassware. Normally, Gwen tackled this part of the job. Peter was the sweep and mop flunky. Gwen was off with Harry and Peter was grumpy. Debra bumped passed him performing a catalog of today's used materials. Dr Warren stopped behind Peter.

“Mr Parker,” He announced, “I believe there is a man outside waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked surprised.

“He is rather conspicuous in his attempts to be unseen.” Dr Warren explained. “Miss Whitman pointed him out yesterday. I was going to have him escorted off of campus, for her sake, but his interest seems to be in you.”

“I'll check it out.” Peter decided. He pulled off his rubber gloves and walked out the front door. Even without the small buzz of his spider-sense, it wasn't difficult to find the man in question. He was tall and dark haired. He was older than most of the college kids. He was wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora like some kind of film noir detective. Peter sighed. This wasn't the first time he had seen the man. The man seemed to pop up now and again since the Goblin fight. Peter marched over and pulled the extraneous Daily Bugle out of the man's hands.

“What do you want?” Peter demanded.

“Uh, to be left alone by nosy teenagers.” The man declared. He flipped up his collar and turned to leave.

“If I catch you following me again, I'll call the cops.” Peter said after the man's back. It was a Peter Parker solution. In honesty, he wanted a Spider-man solution. He knew just how to get one. As the man left his sight Peter took a detour around the applied sciences building and up its redbrick walls. He almost felt guilty about leaving a half filled sink of glassware but this guy. 

Tailing a man on foot was easy for Spider-man and only a little bit frustrating. Webswinging he could easily keep up with New York cars. Now it was easy to stay out of sight, but he wasn't going anywhere. The man who had been watching Warren's lab was in no hurry. Peter only moved that slow when the destination sucked. Buying what little time he could for himself. Well if worse came to worse, Pete could follow this street down to the Daily Bugle. He had a paycheck to pick up.

The shriek, explosion and clatter was more pressing than one nosy man in a trenchcoat. Jack was back. Peter leapt off the wall on which he crawled. Thwip, thwip, thwip. He arced around to the next street. There was an overturned SUV in the street. There was a crowd of kids. There was broken glass. There was panic.

Two thugs struggled out of the vehicle. The crack of handgun fire put wholes in nearby windows. Bullets wildly missing Jack as he ricocheted around the mess. Spider-man's feet kicked pistols out of hand and his free hand grabbed the thugs from the passenger side door. They ended up webbed against the side of a patrol car. Police were on the scene.

“Well, well, well, Spider-man's back from the dead.” Jack cackled. Spider-man cartwheeled out of the way of the fire blast.

“Last time was your trick,” The Spider dashed and weaved towards Jack. Three screaming pumpkin bombs exploded behind him. “This'll be my treat!” Spider-man's toe landed on the rebounding glider and his fist slammed into the steel guarded stomach of Jack O'Lantern. “Yeow!”

Flipping backwards, Peter stretched and flexed his fingers, nothing broken nothing sprained. It hadn't been as hard as Vulture's reinforced pack but Jack was armored. Some mix of reinforced motor cycle armor and a flak jacket. Jack laughed.

“A cheap shot you little shit?” Jack grabbed two Pumpkin bombs and threw them towards the Youth Center.

“You monster!” There were still people inside, hiding out from the battle. Peter had to throw some unlucky person's scooter into the bombs to keep them from blasting inside. The gas tank added to the blast. Metal battered and dented the steel doors. Shrapnel dug into the sidewalk. Peter charged Jack.

Flame throwers crisscrossed Spider-man's path as Jack bounced around. The flaming pumpkinhead grinned in delight as asphalt bubbled and tires melted. The smell was sickening.

“Jack!” Spider-man rolled under a jet of white fire and kicked off a parked car and closed the distance, “I think its time you figured out why Pumpkin's don't fly.”

Peter flipped forward and slid under the Jack's trajectory. His feet gripped the ground and Pete rose up in a fierce uppercut. His shoulder tipped Jack onto the pavement. The exhaust of the pseudo-glider scalded Peter's belly but the disc bounded away. Peter stepped over Jack.

Jack was slow, armored as he was with no Globulin Green to boost his strength nor his speed. Jack didn't have much of a chance against the webswinger mano a mano. He started with a flame from his wrist mounted torch but Spider-man easily ducked aside. Spider-man dove forward, knowing how much force it took to bash in Mysterio's helmet. He pulled his punch hoping to end this without following into and mulching Jack's face. For the second time spider's hand screamed as he failed to punch through Jack's armor. The fire added injury to injury engulfing his hand. The pain was extreme, momentarily blocking out the tingle of his Spider-sense.

“Eat this webhead,” The pumpkin bomb burst on Peter's side. Spider-man was thrown spinning over the nearest cop car. The backforce hammered Jack in the armor, he gasped, hyperventilating as his lungs gave up all their air. Crack! Spider-man was clear and the arrived Policemen were shooting at him. The armor took the small arms fire but it hurt like hell. Jack's scream turned into a mad cackle as he spun up to his feet. He staggered as another bullet hit him under the arm and ricocheted off and into a car's backseat.

Spider-man was seeing Goblin's and not birds spinning around his dazed head. Paranoia and pain formed a potent cocktail in the webhead's mind. He staggered up, he was miraculously uninjured but badly hurt. Cat's almost healed scratches were crisscrossed with pumpkin burn. He was going to need to make more Spider suits.

Jack ran from the police's gunfire. A bullet had taken him in the fuel canister on his left wrist. It hadn't blow up but he was leaking green all over himself. It crusted as the air got to it, forming a gobweb handcuff around his wrist. The drippings sealed him at the waist. Jack saw red through the flames. He cartwheeled backwards as a spider booted foot collided with his collarbone. Spider-man was prepared for another quick attack but the Parker luck had prevailed. 

He had knocked Jack over and onto his pseudo glider. It was caught half under a Ford. Jack, slow and battered, managed to recover and ended up on his knees on his glider. He had about one dozen pumpkin bombs left. He grabbed one in his arrested left hand. Fire jetted passed the spider against the barricade of police cars. The cops dropped down, their guns quiet since Spider-man had rejoined the fight. Spider came for another pass, swinging low on a web, aiming to kick the shins out from under Jack. Jack dropped the pumpkin, laughing as he maneuvered his disc, the bomb and the rocket overturned both spider and Ford. Jack took a wide arc, leaving a burn trail across the name Lincoln.

“Die Spider-man!” He yelled. This was it, finish this and he'd have all the fear and respect needed to be the next Big Man of Crime. The lances of fire kept Spider-man coming straight down the middle. The bombs landed behind the webslinger bringing him as quick as spider could. Three bombs left. Jack grabbed a bomb in each hand, even under the armor his body was screaming in pain, but he laughed as high and crazy as the shriek as the bombs came together in his hands. Jack blasted backward in and through the glass front window of the Youth Center. Spider-man flopped tail over teakettle into the street. Children screamed. Hobie Brown and the other volunteers but their backs towards the fight and between the huddling kids.

“Oh, now isn't this the perfect--” Jack O'Lantern's voice was hoarse from smoke and breathlessness. His second flame thrower had managed to stay intact and he celebrated the fact by scorching and igniting the particle board ceiling tiles. Two webs caught his shoulders and he was pulled out into the street and into the fight. He only managed to kick the controls of his disc so that it rocketed with him out the busted window.

“Has the fire cooked your brains!” Spider-man was livid. His spinning kick knocked away the flamethrower from his chest. Every inch of the spider was throbbing.

“I'll kill you Spider-man! I'll kill you! This is over!” Jack snarled. He grabbed his final pumpkin bomb. His throw went wide, the kick spider-man had delivered to his good hand must have sprained his wrist. He waved out a blast of fire. The spider ducked under the flame, he rolled backwards. Quickly, spider-man shifted into a run up the youth center wall. The pumpkin bomb chipped up the sidewalk. Dust and smoke and chaos filled the battlefield. The only remaining window shook as Spidey jumped off and over Jack. 

“Now it's over, Jackie Boy.” The second punch did the trick. A serious left as his right was still sore and burned. The helmet gave in, no pull to his punch. Spider-man laid out the Jack O'Lantern. The rebounding glider fell once to the ground and bounced hard into the window. Broken glass cascaded in shards and pellets. Spider-man hit the ground and rolled out onto all fours. Peter was breathing hoarsely.

“Get an EMT over here!” Two cops hurried out to arrest Jack. “He's concussed for certain. His neck might be broken.”

Spider-man twisted. He was about to take off. The cops and the paramedics and the firefighters could clean up this debacle. Broke his neck? There had been no other way to stop him. He felt sick to his stomach. Killing villains?

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Hobie Brown stepped right in front of Spider-man and yelled him down. “There were kids in here! You almost killed all of us!” Hobie was pissed, and not entirely at Spider-man. “You destroy the youth center! There're injured people everywhere!”

The streets had collected their share of bashed up and bloody people. “Listen Ho—Listen, kid!” Spider-man reached an arm up and shot a web off to escape. “I didn't step in and this idiot would have left more bodies on the ground.”

“There weren't any supervillains before there was Spider-man!” Hobie snarled. He turned back. Cops and Paramedics were examining all the children. Administrators were doing a head count. Volunteers were holding children as much as the children were holding them.

“You think I do this for fun. I do this because someone has to.” Spider-man tugged the web to give himself the tug he needed to take off and swing away. Hobie looked up after him. He looked around. The Jack O'Lantern's helmet was covered in fire suppressing foam. Green fluid was bubbling out and crusting around the neck of his broken helmet.

Luckily none of the children had suffered more than a light bruise. Someone had to do something all right. They had had the funds to keep the Youth Center opened throughout the summer. Hobie and the other volunteers had believed that they could have petitioned to get some other group or philanthropist to pick up the funds. All this damage was going to cost money. Money the center didn't have. The center had saved Hobie, and he knew it had saved a dozen other younger kids. It kept the kids away from the thugs and the gangs. He looked up and after Spider-man. Someone had to do something. If the kids couldn't be kept away from the criminals. The criminals would have to be kept away from the kids.

“C'mon Hobie,” Glory was with Kenny and they collected Hobie from the middle of the street, “Let's help these kids get home.”

 

 

Spider-man slipped into the Daily Bugle's supply closet. He had used this entrance so often he kept a stick of deodorant behind the floor cleaner. He opened the first aid kit and catalogued the bandages he took to hold his ribs and blood inside him. Luckily his face hadn't taken much of a beating. He looked disheveled but that was nothing out of the ordinary. It took him a quick minute to get dressed in civilian clothes. He waited at the door until his spider-sense waned to nothing and slipped into the offices of the Daily Bugle.

“Foswell get your keister down to the Lincoln Dynamic Youth Center! Where's Lee! I called Parker thirty-five point six minutes ago! Go! Go! Go!” Walking apoplexy sent his staff scattering. Betty Brant handed him a decaffeinated black coffee and a package of nicotine chewing gum.

“Peter just walked in the door, Mr Jameson.” She floated passed him, stomach in knots because she had no idea where Lee had disappeared to. Truthfully, he was probably at the Youth Center disaster. Probably wasn't good enough for J Jonah Jameson, however paying two reporters to go to the same scene was pretty bad.

“Parker!” Jonah strode towards Peter who was slipping his camera from his pocket. “My message said to get down to the battle not to the warroom.”

“Just swung back from there...” Peter was about to stumble over his word swung when Jameson snatched the camera from Peter's hands.

“Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, Jesus! Kid, I do not want to see your dirty bedroom pictures.” the newspaper editor shoved the camera into the freelance photographer's chest. Peter quickly turned off the screen so nobody could see the spread of MJ on his bed. “Robbie! Get those pictures printed off.”

“Dirty bedroom pictures, eh?” Betty teased quietly behind Peter's back as she walked passed towards the photocopier. Before Peter could stammer out an underprepared witty comeback: Betty shuddered. “Finally, I don't know what Jameson wanted with that louse but I'm glad he's finally getting the royal treatment.”

Peter turned to watch the man who had tailed him early that day, stumble and fumble, nearly falling face first onto his hands before scrambling up to his feet and shaking out his coat and affecting an air of personal importance. He walked to the elevator. “I think I know.”

“What Peter?” Betty asked in a whisper as Jameson was throwing vitriol at the stalker's back.

“You'll never work in my town again, Gargan!” Jameson threw his rolled up copy of the Globe and stalked back into his office. The integrity of his glass walls were tested by the hammer of his door. 

“Jameson hired him to find Spider-man.” Peter growled. He was feeling hurt and betrayed. He offered a rude gesture towards Jolly Jonah and a polite wave to Betty. He almost forgot to unload his pictures onto Robbie's computer. 

“Are you alright Peter?” Robbie asked, Peter had been wheezing a bit since he arrived.

“I must've got too close to the dust and smoke.” Peter waved him off. “I'll be OK.”

“That's not something to fool around with Peter. I've seen what dust and smoke can do to a person's lungs.” Robbie gripped Peter's shoulder. “Drink some water and try not to over exert yourself but it you get a tickle in your throat or a pain in your chest you go straight to a doctor.”

“I'll be ok--” Peter falterd under Robbie's gaze. “I will, I promise.”

“Good, now get out of here.”

Gargan had too much of a head start for Peter to figure out where to follow him. He had also promised Robbie to get some rest. He sighed, looking forward to go home as he waited a few minutes to catch the next elevator.

 

“You think I'm going to let my little girl traipse around like some kind of exhibitionist slut!” The drunken slur in her father's voice was as familiar as the accepting defeat in her mother's voice.

“Of course not,” Her mother agreed, “I'll sit her down and talk to her.”

“Do that, I'm not in the mood for wearing out another belt.”

Mary Jane Watson hadn't heard a word of the conversation, she had long learned how to and when to climb down from her second story window. Her bus turned the corner, Glory Grant had promised her a place to bunk down for the night. A few days at aunt Anna's and Mary would come home to a father's neglect. That was always preferred to a father's rage.


	3. 303 Debt Collection

Ravencroft tried to be warm and relaxing. The walls were painted in pale yellows and bright blues. The lights were bright and the staff in their clean white coats tried to be as friendly as they could. Ravencroft failed. It still smelled like a hospital. The steel bars on the windows and the heavy locks on the doors intimidated. Dr. Ashley Kafka's heels clicked as she walked alongside Dr. Miles Warren and Mr. J Jonah Jameson. Kafka's purpose here was as a healer. She was a psychiatrist and neurologist. Her compatriots were here for other purposes.

Dr. Miles Warren was among the best geneticists in the world. His papers that she had read were quite groundbreaking, astonishing and frightening. Dr Kafka noticed a clear clinical detachment in the man. She understood him professionally but was quite opposed to him personally. She inferred that he was unhindered by ethical concerns. She suspected his brilliance could be downright nefarious. She would have preferred to work with Dr. Connors. Regrettably, Kurt had left with his wife and son to Florida. Ashley was stuck with Miles. She despaired her patients could be in more caring hands, however she admitted they could not be in more capable ones.

Jonah visited his son John at least three times a week. His gruff demeanor, short temper and caustic vocabulary were forgiven in light of the care he showed for his son. She had suffered his spitting vitriol several times. Healing takes time and even then, the chemical damage to John's brain was likely permanent. Despite the newspaperman's periodic conniptions, Dr Kafka wished most of her patients had someone who cared half as much as Jonah did. John was calm today thanks to light sedation.

“He's doing better, but not well,” Dr Kafka explained. “He continues to work himself into a frenzy whenever he's lucid. I've prescribed sedatives twice daily. I had hoped to cut back to once daily, but...”

“Yes, thank you doctor,” Jonah grumbled off waving away the psychiatrist. He glared at his son. John sat in a patient's gown playing checkers with a giggling gaunt redheaded man.

“You said you have an answer to Spider-man?” Jameson turned towards Dr Warren after Dr Kafka set off to perform her rounds.

“Indeed, Mr Jameson,” Dr Warren opened a steel bound folder that contained highly sensitive and dangerous information. Jameson took it out of Warren's hands and chewed on his cigar. The orderlies always confiscated his matches whenever he visited.

“How am I supposed to figure out what this data means!” Jonah startled several patients when his voice carried through the sound suppressing windows.

“It means, sir, that I believe I can reproduce the Spider-man.” Warren said calmly.

“And? You want to add to the plague of masked madmen wreaking havoc?” Jonah snarled.

“No, I believe I can create a proper foil to the Spider-man. One who can unmask him and bring him to justice.”

“Yeah? So why don't you?”

“Such a process would take considerable resources,” Warren said smartly, “A positive media response, and a subject willing to undergo the operation.”

“Money, you people always want money!” Huffed Jonah. “It'd be easier just to put up the money as a bounty on the insufferable webhead's head.”

“There are several benefits for your own position, Mr Jameson,” Warren continued, “First you'd have on the ground coverage for your newspaper, secondly you'd be known as the man who stopped the Spider and finally, this operation may provide more insight in how to restore your son.”

“I don't take kindly to those who would use my family against me.” Jonah warned. “Or worse, a snake oil salesman who thinks he wave some miracle cure as some means open my checkbook.”

“Of course not. And I cannot promise you a cure. I just believe that this will give me some insight into the cause of the damage in your son's brain. Science is not an instantaneous process.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Jonah grumbled, “You're going to help my son. We're going to put a swift end to the webhead and I'm going to celebrate.” He smiled darkly around his cigar stub. Miles Warren and J. Jonah Jameson shook hands.

 

Spider-man yawned. Tears of drowsiness were forming under the eyepieces of his mask as he made his Monday morning swing to M3. Spring Break had been the most confusing time of Peter Parker's life. He had broken curfew all week trying to chase down a stray Cat. It was a tiring and fruitless effort. Making sure he was there to say good night to Aunt May and then swinging out the window for some late night street sweeping. When he caught a criminal he couldn't even post the pictures, as he was supposed to be in bed.

Pictures. He had a set of alluring Mary Jane Watson poses and a set of heart-stopping Black Cat candids. Redundant passwords protected both, though MJ knew of both. He hadn't seen her all weekend either. He dropped down into the Midtown parking lot and discreetly changed out of sight. Sighing, he walked to school.

“As I live and breathe! Peter Parker before the morning bell!” Harry Osborn greeted his best friend on the front steps near the iced over fountain. Harry was looking tan. His green eyes and bright smile returned to him. His winter coat hung open, a cup of coffee warmed his hands.

“Hey Har,” Peter smiled back. He settled himself on the steps next to Harry. His old friend was being personable and looking well. He was also talking to Peter. Could life be taking a turn for the better? With the Parker luck? Pshaw! “How was the trip?”

“It was good.” He slurped on his coffee, “Gwen and I couldn't get into any of the wild beach parties but I really doubt they were her scene. Saw the sights, had some great food, hit a few beaches and bombed around at Disney World for a day.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Peter couldn't imagine a better week. It had everything to do with girl.

“It was. Plus mom really needed it.” Harry nodded. “How about you? Anything exciting?”

“Not much,” Peter immediately thought of Cat and tried to underplay things. “A lot of Bugle and ESU lab work.”

“Bo-ring,” Harry sympathized. After one last loud drink, he threw his coffee towards a nearby garbage can. It rebounded off the lip and onto the walk. Back to good ol' Harry athleticism. At least his buddy was still off the Green. 

“Your trip?” MJ appeared almost out of thin air. Peter flinched but smiled at the redhead. If only his Spider-sense was good for warning him about women.

“No, Gwen and I had a great time,” Harry stood up. “Peter was just telling me about his break.”

“Well I don't know how he got boring out of it.” MJ apparently had a look as well. It was nothing so cutting as classic Gwen. Peter squirmed nonetheless.

“Oh, you guys didn't hook up, did you?” Harry misread the signs. He seemed genuinely happy. Like the face he had been wearing was carefully constructed and this beaming smile cut through the crap.

“No, not quite,” MJ said with a small laugh, “We did have quite the memorable night though.” Peter was about to comment when she kissed him warmly on his cheek. His speechlessness and goofy grin locked on her backside as she swayed inside.

“You'll have to explain what she's talking about later.” Harry slung his bookbag over his shoulder. “C'mon Pete, I'll show you what class looks like when you arrive on time.”

Peter! Liz Allan had watched the warm exchange with a twisted grimace. Last night had been the first night where she had made it through without crying. You play around with my brother and now you took my boyfriend! And I was worried about Gwen! Don't let me catch you alone you redheaded, boyfriend-stealing, two-faced--

“Liz!” Sally's voice cut through the not quite feeling like spring morning as she pulled her best friend into a hug from behind. She had been trying to force feed Liz a replacement boyfriend since her breakup and Liz just wasn't ready. “You'll never guess who's single!”

Rand Robertson followed his meddling girlfriend and the dejected Liz. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

 

 

“Mr Jameson,” Betty Brant pulled her light jacket closed over her breasts, “Mr Gargan to see you.”

“Thanks doll,” Gargan oozed with a wink. Betty watched him go into Jameson's office as Robbie came out. Robbie made certain to close the door behind Gargan.

“What's that grease stain doing back here?” Betty scowled at the man's back.

“He's been begging and pleading to finish that assignment Jameson gave him.” Robbie shook his head, “He's no use to anyone if you ask me, but Jameson has some scheme up his sleeve and Gargan's just lowered his rates.”

“He's a disgusting little insect,” Betty tried to be a nice person. Looked for the best in people. Didn't judge people by their looks. She believed that everyone had something worthwhile inside them somewhere. Mac Gargan was her crisis of faith.

“I couldn't agree more.” Robbie and Jonah often had their differences. When it came to the paper, Jonah listened. When it came to Spider-man, Jonah did not listen.

“Robbie!” Jonah came out of his office with Gargan in tow, “I want to see some hustle out here. Mr Gargan and I are off on a side project. I expect the best!” The directions came without a hump as Jameson led Gargan out to the elevator.

“I'd never give you anything less,” Robbie declared.

“I know, so get to it.” Jameson's smile was disconcerting as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.

“Betty,” Robbie turned to the secretary, “You may want to send Peter a text. You're friends, right?”

Betty's cheeks flushed as she had already pressed send. Robbie gave her a squeeze on the shoulder before he turned to the city desk and took the never-ending battle to Foswell.

 

“That's just great.” Peter slumped into an empty cafeteria table and dropped his undercooked french fries and not-quite-fit-for-prison-inmates burger down in front of him. “A warning about a crazed psycho. At least this time it's my boss. Is it too much to hope for a friendly message or a sext or something?” Peter's grin turned up imagining such a message from Betty. Gwen and Harry set their food down across from him.

“What's wrong Peter?” Gwen asked, her vacation induced tan was not nearly as dark as Harry's. She brushed her hair behind her ear and flashed a worried but orthodontically perfect smile. 

“Nothing, just a message from work.” Peter growled.

“Pictures you need to take?” Harry asked. There was something damning in his question.

“No, Jameson hired some goon to follow me to find Spider-man,” Peter explained, “I was kind of thinking that was over and done with.”

“Oh,” Gwen mumbled, “I can talk to dad about it if--”

“No, don't,” Peter shook his head. “I can't really afford to lose the job.”

“That's no reason to accept harassment!” Gwen reproached Peter, “Besides there are other papers and—”

“And if its money problems, I can always help out.” Harry rolled over his girlfriend. Peter watched Gwen quiet up and felt a little angry. “Better than having my friend follow after Spider-murderer.”

“Harry,” Peter started feeling immediately uncomfortable. He really couldn't accept money from Harry and continue as Spider-man. He didn't want to nor did he think he should give up the Spider. Gwen would have been dead or worse without Spider-man. Spider-man wasn't going away any time soon. He covered his sympathy with drive. “I got to do what I need to do. If that means snapping pictures of people you don't like so be it.”

“Fine, but don't get yourself killed in this foolishness.” Harry's worry was dripping in anger. Gwen interjected a new subject.

“Mary Jane says you helped her get the modeling gig?” Gwen looked brightly, “I'm still blown away by that.”

“Yeah, it was crazy all right,” Peter admitted. His mind turned to Roderick Kingsley. The man had wanted the specs to mass produce Rhinos. The man had taken over Oscorp. The man was dangerous. He worried for MJ.

“How'd you help her?” Harry asked. His fries had gone cold but that didn't stop him from mindlessly chewing on them.

“I shot her folio,” Peter said, “They said she needed a professional photographer and I was in her price range.”

“Sounds a lot better than Spidey pics.” Condemned Harry.

Peter's mind flipped through his mental album of dirty Cat pictures. “It's close.” He admitted.

“You've got the experience with The Bugle,” Gwen said, “And the in with MJ, why not see if they'll hire you?”

“In with me where?” MJ appeared sans lunch and sat down next to Peter. She sat close enough that he could smell her shampoo and feel her thigh resting against his. He inhaled discreetly.

“At the modeling agency,” Harry responded, “Congrats by the way.”

“Thank you,” She gave a short little curtsy in her seat.

“We were suggesting to Peter that it'd be a lot more fun and safe to shoot pictures of you rather than of Spider-man.” Harry continued. 

MJ's dirty smile told Peter she was recalling the Cat photos as well. “It'd be close.”

The words raised Harry's eyebrows before they furrowed.

“I'm sure it'd be a weight off of May's shoulders too.” Gwen piped in. She wanted to say how much she worried, but things with Harry were shaky, especially with him recovering from his addiction. She tried to be as discreet with her feelings as she could be. She wanted to say that chasing after supervillains and vigilantes was no way to look after a recent heart attack patient.

“I'll think about it. I am still on contract with the Bugle.” He had signed it pretty quickly because of how much he needed and wanted the money. Now he was worried at how tough it would be to weasel out of. Of course, there was also the fact that if a Bugle reporter had to disappear because of a major battle downtown he was earning his paycheck. If Octopus started on a tear through Times Square, a fashion photographer might not have the same leeway.

“Well it can't hurt to talk to them,” MJ nudged Peter, “Besides you'll like Vaughn-Pope. She's a total nerd.”

“You know I also happen to like popular people too,” He elbowed her ribs back and the pair shared a laughing smile. Gwen looked down at her shoes and held back a frown.

 

 

“Good morning, Dr Twaki[1],” Dr Miles Warren watched as four men entered his workspace. Dr Twaki had not been expected. Of course, Warren knew of the man by reputation, a brilliant biochemist, and of the three brilliant men who had put together the research initiative that is Tri-Corp. Dr Twaki greeted Dr Warren with an impersonal nod and was followed by a courier in a grey cap and green coveralls[2]. The courier pushed a hand truck carrying a Tri-Corp emblazoned trunk banded in steel.

“Are we ready Warren?” J Jonah Jameson had entered first and was already pacing around the laboratory while his disheveled companion poked at the glass of the spider display. His lab assistant, Debra Whitman, was busy with her masters classes and his high school interns were not due for hours. He could see no trouble, but he did not answer until the courier had left.

“We can begin provided Mr...”

“Gargan.” Grumbled the man looking up from the spiders.

“Mr Gargan is prepared for the procedure.” Dr Warren opened a fume hood where he had already measured and balanced the injections. He loaded the first vial into the needle gun.

“Excellent!” Jonah rubbed his hands picturing the capture of the webhead. “Not having cold feet are you Gargan?”

“You know me, boss,” He shrugged out of his duster, “Anything at anytime when the payday is right.”

“First we are going to inject you with a--” Miles began explaining the procedure in his academic tone but Gargan waved him off.

“I ain't need to know what's in it to make it all work do I?” He scowled.

“Of course not, Mr Gargan,” Dr Warren readied the needle gun on Gargan's muscled forearm. The man's heavy jacket and mild slouch really disguised the sheer power underneath his skin. An excellent specimen.

“I must admit,” Dr Twaki interrupted before Warren could depress the trigger mechanism, “I find this experiment to be highly unethical.”

“How so?” Jonah growled, “Gargan knew what he was stepping up to. Lawyers even drafted the paperwork covering your, Warren's and my collective asses. Besides it ain't like no one's been doing this crap before. Only now we know that the end result isn't going to be some crazy villain but an upstanding hardworking flesh and blood New Yorker.” Miles Warren shook his head when Jonah attempted to light his cigar. The newspaperman let out a strong growl. “You get to test your suit, Warren gets to find my boy a cure and I get to deal with Spider-mask once and for all.”

“I'd like to add--”

“No need Dr Warren,” Twaki raised his hand, “I was just making sure my misgivings had been stated and acknowledged. Proceed.”

“About damned time,” Mac Gargan muttered something about bickering housewives and eggheads. He seethed a quick inhalation as the fist needle punctured his wrist. Warren followed with two others. He pocketed the nanotech control robots. There was no reason to consider Gargan a long term investment.

Since Warren had augmented Kravinoff, he had significantly improved the process. Kravinoff underwent gene treatment for weeks before the effects were visible. Gargan only had enough time to wince at the needles, turn to Jonah and laugh about the easiest two grand he ever made. Gargan convulsed, gripping his chest and kicking his legs out. Jonah was excited and angry but not panicking. Twaki's eyes widened and he stepped towards the door. The serum was arthropod, but due to Jonah's specifications it was centered around the aspects of one of nature's deadliest. Gargan felt his muscles release and contract as he howled. The muscle he carried had been bulky and it quickly slimmed into thinner, leaner, harder versions. His full height was obvious as he flexed and struggled back onto his stool. Sitting tall he was at nearly six foot two, a whole three inches taller than his natural slouch. His eyes had taken on a greenish quality from their natural brown. His hair was pasted to his head by sweat.

“How are you feeling Mr Gargan?” Warren asked when the man's breathing steadied.

“I'd kill for a milkshake and a steak,” He grumbled, “And several dozen beers.”

“That's your body demanding more protein,” Warren explained. He left out the alcoholism, “Eat heartily for a few days.”

“Will do,” Gargan nodded with a wheeze. He steadied himself on the edge of the work bench, but his fingers sheared through the particle board and laminate. “Shit.”

“A side effect,” Nodded Warren, “Scorpions have vicious pincers and you'll notice your own grip having similar qualities.”

“Well I'll have to get hookers more often now,” Gargan announced. Jonah snarled.

“It's not over yet, Gargan!” He growled and pushed Twaki forward.

“Yes,” Dr. Twaki reset his glasses upon his nose. “You are aware that Tri-Corp's weapon development has surrounded on body armor and weaponized suits. It was our prototype that was stolen and implemented by The Shocker and our Jupiter Suit that--”

“The man's not paying me to fail another class, Doc. Just suit me up.”

“Of course,” Twaki decided he was betting on Spider-man. The suit was contained in four parts. The first three were armored clothing, a shirt with sleeves and a hood, a set of gloves and full pants with boots. The final part was a segmented tail. It connected to the pants and was wired through the shirt to the hood. Sensors at his right shoulder and the base of his spine would accept signals commanding the weapon. The tail itself was extrapolated from Otto Octavius's work. Powered by a Megalo-Pak, it should hold out for nearly four years before it needed recharging. It was made to swing like a sledgehammer and implemented with a pick for extra destructive power and it carried a reservoir of compounds that could be expelled as an acidic blast. Dr Twaki attempted to help Gargan into the armor but the private dick pushed him backwards. Twaki managed to stay upright with Jonah's help.

“I can put on my own clothes, Doc,” Snarled Gargan as he stripped down to his disgustingly spotted boxing shorts. The pants fit like a second skin, impressive because of how his muscle mass had changed through the process. The shirt was only slightly looser but when he pulled the hood up around his hair it hissed and clung tight to his body. He snagged on the gloves and tested them. They kept him from ripping things apart with his hands. The tail was a two man job. He snarled at Twaki, so Warren connected it.

“You going to be ready for Tomorrow, Gargan?” Jameson demanded.

“Be there with bells on boss,” He grinned. Warren sighed. Gargan's excitement destroyed the edge of one of his work benches with a blow from the tail. Jonah was mad-eyed and giddy. Gargan was feeling powerful for the first time in his life. Twaki was quiet and reserved. Warren was looking forward to Gwen and Peter arriving so this mess could get cleaned up.

 

 

The Vault was New York's answer to supervillains. It was centered in the deepest parts of Riker's Island penitentiary. Specially designed cells to handle any of the supercriminal element that had been popping up in the city. Rhino lay in his cell, snoring despite the aggravating electronic voice that responded to any and all stimuli with the threat of tranquilizing gas. Liz Allan was glad, she didn't like Rhino's eyes on her when she came to visit her brother. Her eyes were red, she had been crying on the cab ride over and she hadn't managed to mask the fact by touching up her makeup. One guard carried a steel chair, one of the ones wrestlers battered each other with. They arrived in front of Molten Man's cell.

“Please stand back from the door or suppressing foam will be released to detain Allan comma Mark.” The voice declared.

“I know,” grumbled Mark. He had been pacing, he had little to occupy his time in prison. He had access to books and exercise equipment, but not the general population. He always imagined that it would be better to be left alone in prison. Two guards a day and whoever delivered his food and reading materials were all the company he could guarantee. It didn't matter that someone else controlled his superpower. While he was a supervillain, he was alone. Liz's visits were the only thing keeping him sane. One month down, only one hundred and nineteen left.

The guard set up the chair in Mark's cell. Liz Allan took the guard's offered hand as she stepped up over the door seal and settled into the chair. He gave her the standard warning about leaning too far back because she'd get her pretty hair full of extinguisher foam. She smiled politely, the guard was friendly in his condescending way. The door shut behind her and the computer voice assured all parties it was closed.

“I know,” The Allan siblings mumbled together. It had become a shared joke with them and Liz really needed to smile.

“You look like you've been crying, Lizzie,” Mark reached out and brushed her cheek. “You still hung up on Peter?”

“I saw another girl kiss him today,” She said like a knife in her chest.

“He was never good enough for you anyway,” Mark reiterated, “You deserve the best.”

“I can't believe that's what he said when he broke up with me!” Liz growled. “I know it was to get with Gwen. If I'm too good for him, than what the hell did she do to be so foul!”

It wasn't enough that Gwen was smarter and more interesting than Liz. No, Gwen was beautiful. She had hid it for years under heavy sweatshirts and baggy pants. Her beautiful eyes tucked away behind thick glasses. Her gorgeous hair wasted in a utilitarian ponytail. Why couldn't the nerdy bitch have an acne problem or something? Liz slumped down.

“Don't go comparing yourself to Gwen,” Mark would hug her but there were strict no touching rules and he already pushed those to the limit by rubbing her cheek. “Besides she's still with Harry, right?”

“Yeah,” Liz mumbled, “But this was worse. Now Pete's all touchy feely with Mary Jane Watson.”

“MJ?” Mark narrowed his eyes. He was still pissed that his lawyer couldn't get her in to see him. Not that conjugal visits were a right of unmarried, underage supercriminals. “The fucking bitch. It's been four weeks! That--”

“Voices will be lowered or suppressing foam will be released to contain Allan comma Mark.” The voice rang.

“I know,” Mark and Liz seethed, but more quietly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure she slept with him over spring break.” Liz growled. “You can just see the difference in how Peter moves like that.”

“You never slept with him, right?” Mark asked, it was fearful and forceful.

“No,” Liz sighed. She would have, had he made their dates or tried anything. She and Flash had been hot and heavy all sophomore year. “You and MJ?”

“Yeah, pretty much every opportunity we got.” Of course he's going to brag about it. Liz was starting to hate MJ. She had never been this angry at anyone other than Mark. His gambling had destroyed his life and she saw it coming. But that was a hot worrisome rage. The kind of anger you can only have when you can't help someone from making a terrible mistake. The anger she had for Gwen and for MJ was seething with envy and hurt. The anger she held for Peter was the only way to keep herself from going back to him.

“She any good?” Liz had to ask something. Sex was an odd topic with her brother but so long as they didn't discuss her problems Mark never thought twice about it.

“Yeah! She's as hot and fiery as her hair.” Mark's reminiscence was bittersweet. The thoughts of fire brought him to his predicament. Maybe he should have busted out when the goblin lighted him up last time. Now Osborn was dead and he was stuck in a ten year sentence. He longed to hug Lizzie, but that foam was terrible and they'd spray him if he made any attempts to hold her.

“Well, I'm glad for you,” Liz said. “Has mom or dad come to visit yet?”

“No,” Mark fell back against the wall. “Haven't seen them since the trial.”

“I'll talk to mom again. She wants to come,” Liz was quiet.

“Yeah but dad says I'm not worth saving.” Mark sneered.

“Miss Allan, times up.” The guard appeared at the door and rapped it with his truncheon.

“But! There was no way that was ten minutes.” She pleaded.

“I'm sorry, miss, but time is time.” The door was opening and the guard had his right hand resting on his stungun.

“I'll see you in a few days, I promise!” Liz reached in and gave Mark a quick hug around his shoulders. The guard stated “No Touching.” but without enthusiasm. Liz said goodbye once again and Mark just nodded. Liz walked off, thinking on their little conversation. When she got into the next cab, her face was stony and her eyes were dry.

 

 

Peter Parker woke early for a Tuesday. Last night's Spider-manning had been a bust. No street crime, no supervillains, exhausted and bored he called it a night by nine. It was a hard decision, part of him wanted to stay out all night every night until he found Black Cat. After settling in back at school, talking to Harry and Gwen, being around MJ, part of him hoped he could put Cat's crazy fling behind him. Aunt May was up and about preparing in the kitchen. Dr Bromwell had said she was fit as a fiddle but Peter still fussed whenever he saw her hard at work. The thick smell of bacon and eggs told him it was about to be a delicious duty to perform. He heard the paperboy dropping the Bugle on his doorstep and opened the door in his undershirt and boxers.

“An Invitation to Spider-man. The Daily Bugle Wants You to Tell Your Side of The Story” The two line headline was less hard hitting than Threat or Menace! Peter shook his head. What kind of idiot did Jolly Jonah take Spidey for? Betty's text message yesterday and this obvious trap today. Good news all around. Peter was starting to feel like a Parker again.

“Good morning Aunt May,” Peter greeted his aunt warmly. He had the Daily Bugle under his arm. He sat down and turned to the funnies.

“Good morning Peter,” May said with an ebullient happiness, “I didn't expect you up for half an hour. Breakfast isn't quite ready yet.”

“Speaking of which, bacon isn't entirely heart-smart.” Peter turned down the corner of the Bugle and gave a correcting look to his aunt. 

“I know Peter,” May laughed, “The bacon is for you. I made myself a healthy breakfast, although it wouldn't hurt you to try eating a little more healthfully.”

“I'll have an apple with the eggs, bacon, cheese and biscuits.” He promised. 

“Oh, Peter,” She shook her head smiling.

 

 

Liz arrived at Midtown with Rand and Sally, Flash and Sha Shan, and Kenny and Glory. She watched with envy as the three couples laughed and talked and touched. She cut away from her group as soon as they passed the courtyard. She watched them walk off ungratefully as she settled down onto the fountain's lip. The cold stone bit through her green and black skirt. Her leggings were drawing the eyes of many the school's young men but she didn't see one. Mary Jane Watson had arrived.

“MJ!” She waved the redhead over to her. Green eyes looked with surprise and interest at Liz. Shrugging the redhead walked over and sat down next to her most recent boyfriend's sister.

“Hi Liz,” MJ greeted guardedly, “How's Mark?”

“He's... Lonely,” Liz sighed, before passive aggressively adding, “He could use some more visitors.”

“I wish I could go,” MJ put her hand on Liz's knee and looked sympathetically into her eyes, “But they won't let me see him.”

“I know,” Liz admitted. “That's not what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?” Mary Jane was surprised. She and Liz had never been very close. Liz accused MJ of wedging Peter and Liz apart to make room for Gwen. The redhead also got much closer to Mark than Liz had wanted or trusted.

“What the fuck did you do?” Liz asked in a quiet rage.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” MJ pulled her hand back and looked at Liz with irritation. MJ didn't take well to foul language, it reminded her of her father during the bad times.

“Peter says I'm too good for him,” Having someone she could blame managed to hold back Liz's tears, “Now, anyone can see the difference in the way he's walking. You're kissing him on the steps, sharing some secret rendezvous over spring break. So tell me, if I'm too good for him, what horrible things have you done to be bad enough to deserve Petey.”

The fire and succinctness in Liz's words really got at MJ who fell back on the defensive. “I kissed him on the cheek! He helped me out with a job! What do you mean the difference in the way he's walking?”

“What did you do?”

“I'm not and I haven't been with Peter.” MJ said after one calming breath. The breath didn't work as well as she hoped.

“Fine, I'll find out the truth somehow.” Liz grabbed her bag and stormed into the school. MJ was left on the fountain looking confused and worried. Liz's warpath marched her right passed Rand and Sally who had noticed her fall back and were waiting for her to walk to chemistry. Liz didn't even seen them.

“You going to go after her?” Rand asked. The concern apparent on his girlfriend's face.

“No,” Sally said, “Well yes, we're going to the same class, but no she needs time alone. I've been trying for weeks and I can't get through. Sometimes I wish he had blown up with that van.”

“What van?” Rand asked.

“Nothing,” Sally sighed. She really didn't want to see Peter hurt. She just didn't want to see Liz hurting. “You want to skip first class. The gym's empty.”

“Yeah?” Rand raised his eyebrow. Rand was a model student, decent grades, football star, best looking girl in the school, near perfect attendance. He had a strict father to make proud and he did make his father proud. Of course, when a gorgeous blonde leads him by the hand to the relative privacy of an empty locker room, Rand realized he could make a few concessions.

Sally grinned foolishly as she rushed ahead of Rand. The pair made straight for the gymnasium and more importantly the change rooms. Sally was getting more and more flared up with every step she took.

“Good morning, Miss Avril,” She nearly jumped out of her skin as Captain Stacy greeted her.

“Good morning, Mr Stacy, sir,” She put on her most innocent smile and looked up at the police captain with her bright blue eyes.

“Off to class?” He insinuated.

“Yes sir,” She agreed. Her nasal voice as lilting as she could manage. She wished her shirt could have had another button to open, she found it easier to lie to grown men with her cleavage showing.

“Me too,” He looked at his watch. “I'll see you next period.”

“Looking forward to it.” Her smile almost cracked as Captain Stacy headed off. Rand was just appearing around the corner. His unhurried pace excited Sally. Rand never got whipped into a frenzy, even when she was horny.

With no further interruptions, Sally rushed into the women's locker room. Rand was still a minute behind her, coming soft and strongly like some sexual terminator. Sally bounced on her heels as she tore off her close and shoved them in one of the cubby holes next to the shower. They had been doing this for a while now, had learned that the girl's locker was the safer place. The showers were stalls, though they had no curtains, whereas the boy's room was one open pit. Also Mr. Warren, the biology teacher, sometimes took a shower after performing demonstrations or experiments in his classes. Not that Sally expected to be in the room by next period's bell.

She had just laid her bra over her properly folded pants when Rand walked in through the door. Sally grinned. She hurried out of her pale blue bikini cut panties, naked but for her socks. Sex was already spotting her underwear. Rand was a god. Her own tall, muscled, dark, handsome, unstoppable, ferocious God. He picked her up with one hand; her “Oh!” echoed around the brick walls. He ripped off each of her little bluebird socks and tossed them into her cubby locker. Giggling, she kicked her feet clear with each sock's removal. She bit her lips to conceal her delighted cry as he pushed straight down onto the benches before the lockers. Her but reverberated with the impact and it hurt. Sally winced as Rand pulled out his cock in front of her.

“Oh God,” She paled a little. She wasn't the most enthusiastic blowjobber. Rand's cock was a beast and Sally had trouble getting her mouth around it. She started by licking the outside, Knowing rand was stripping off his top as she trailed her tongue from top to bottom. He stepped up his right foot onto the bench between her splayed thighs. Sally was beginning to lave her tongue around his engorged head. He grabbed her hair and she did her best to open as wide as she could. Coughing and sputtering, her throat resisted invasion. Rand thrust into her mouth as his free hand tore open his laces.

“Rand Robertson!” Admonished Sally, red-faced and teary-eyed. 

“Sally Avril,” Rand just smiled and rolled the words out in his aggression. The sex, that's why he put up with her. She'd have a few things to say when this was over. If he had done his job right, she'd slur the words for how dizzy she was.

She released a quaking shriek as he kicked off his shoe and stood on the bench again ready to untie his next set of laces. Sally lips vibrated chaotically around his cock as she was pulled in with one hand again. Panic, spittle and pleasure spattered from her pale lips down his dark cock. His next laces were undone. 

Kicking off the sneaker, Rand let Sally up. She suppressed her gag, but her mascara was running down her cheeks. Her angry pout was looking particularly pissed off. Rand just wiped the sides of her spittle covered mouth with his thumb. She pulled off his pants and boxers. Stepping on the backs of each sock he was as naked as she was.

“Rand!” She gasped as he lifted her once again and carried her into the showers like a pirate. The water was running, scalding hot and Sally shrieked as Rand tossed her under. She ducked and twisted the knobs until she was comfortable. As soon as it was tolerable she was pressed up against the tiled wall and skewered.

Sally knew what she liked. She loved a slow, sweet and passionate lovemaking that took its time and left her breathless. She liked how he'd hold her and cover her until she was hungry and ready to encourage him onto his back with a soft insistent push on his shoulder. She loved the sweet feeling of being full and the needful feeling of coming together in orgasm. 

Sally's right calf was captured in Rand's big hand and she was split, spread eagle, balancing on her big tiptoe while her hands gripped the handicap accessible bar. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she felt all of Rand's two and thirty six pounds of muscle crash into her silken soaken sex. Her cheek was pressed hard into the tiles and her knuckles were turning white on the bar. Her tits splashed the shower water with every violent collision. 

“You like that!” Rand told her as he pounded away, “You like it hard!”

“I love it!” She admitted as her hair grew wet and curtained her face. “Give it to me!”

“Yeah!” Rand growled, he had her split wide open. He had her held aloft. Yet, he still had to bank his knees and stand wide as a sumo wrestler to dip down deep enough to fuck her. His whole back was slick and glistening from the shower. His throat was taut and his jugular's bulged. He could feel every perfect inch of her insides. They said it was what was inside that counted. In that case, Sally was the most perfect girl in the school.

The little blonde was losing control of her voice as she opened her mouth the gasp and mewl. There was pain, fierce insistent pain that excited her. She had no control, she was stuck until Rand was done with her and she begged that he'd never be. Her blue eyes rolled back into her head and her back curled as she was forced against the shower stall. Her cunt was clinging hard to his cock and she never wanted to let go.

Rand was a very proportional man and he was slamming deep inside a very petite cheerleader. She was starting to squeak and soon she'd let loose her screams. Her nasal spike of voice would sputter out the filthiest little swear words as her body was wracked with pleasure. She kept spitting out the hair that ran down over her lips. Rand knew it was time to get serious.

“What! God!” Sally was pulled back from the wall. She wanted to sling her legs around Rand's waist and he let her, his dark smile hiding his intentions. She snuggled down on his cock until it was completely sheathed inside her and pressing against her cervix. The sensation of fulfillment was as intense as the heat steaming in the shower. She mouthed her love for Rand and he kissed her lips, her water soaked hair stuck between their lips and kept his tongue from diving into her little mouth.

“Rand!” She muttered, the pleasure in her body tight as a coil and the slow build she was getting out of him lifting her on his cock was such a tease after the pounding he had opened with. She knew he was just waiting for her to beg for more. He wanted to tear into her once again. She kissed him lightly once more. Her hips rolled up and down, gliding the cock in and out of her sex. She could have stayed like this for hours but they didn't have that long. She knew how he'd come when she let him off his chain once again. She wanted him to take her. Simpering, she insinuated all of her desire into one little word, “Please.”

Rand's mouth spread into a corsair's grin. She expected to have her shoulders collide with the shower stall while he devastated what was left of her body. She didn't expect him to bend forward, encouraging her to roll back so her hands were in the palms down in the swirl of the shower drain. He didn't do this very often. She knew she was going to hurt. She knew she was going to scream. She knew she was going to love it.

“Sally!” Rand groaned as he stepped over her split legs. He hand both hands gripping her left thigh while her right foot balanced on the handicap accessible bar. He was bent over, aiming down into the sex he had never left. Hard he pounded into her, she slipped down further, controlling her descent until her neck was crooked and she was balanced across the span of her shoulders. She snorted as the water ran into her mouth and nose. She kept spitting while she screamed. He thrust hard into her and the pair of them called up a fierce racket.

Sally was the first to come, already so wound up, already in such need that her toes curled and her knees kicked. She screamed as she kicked the stall wall and her sex gripped down on his long invader.

Rand was the conqueror. He had tamed the spiteful cheerleader with the power of his cock. He reached down, grabbed her by the hair, letting her slip of his cock into a splayed pile on the floor of the shower. His cock smelled of her dripping sex and it tasted salty. Sally rose quickly to keep the hair in her scalp and hungrily consumed Rand's still throbbing cock. She squeezed her cheeks around him and purred as he so readily spilled his affection across her delicate tongue. She grabbed him with both hands and pumped every last drop into her mouth. She smiled as she swallowed her reward. She climbed to her feet and he pulled her into a tight embrace. His finger ran down her cheek, a gesture she felt was full of affection, but he was just tracing the red line the drain had left imprinted there. He smiled. So did she.

“Think we have time for one more before we get cleaned up?” Sally begged, her fingers wander all over the best part of her man.

“Yeah,” Rand said resurrecting, “I hope you can manage.”

 

The Daily Bugle was bubbling with activity. Jonah's bright and cheery mood was disrupting his workforce, however that meant everyone revved up their workload to eleven so they wouldn't be the poor sap who was under Jameson during the inevitable collapse. Betty avoided her desk, being directly underfoot wasn't the smartest strategy. She filed, photocopied, ordered, fetched, juggled, berated, praised, and operated all over the office. She slipped a hand across the back of Ned's neck and gave him a smile as he followed up some lead on his phone. He almost gave her a full smile before being drawn back into the conversation.

“Escaped? When? From the transport? They attacked the hospital. I'll grab a photographer and be right down.” He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair before he had hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He rushed over to Jonah.

“Mr Jameson!” Ned did what no one else had the courage to do all day, talk to Jonah.

“What is it, Lee?” Jameson was downright friendly.

“Jack O'Lantern busted out of his hospital bed. I need to grab Peter and--”

“Sorry, Ned,” Jameson put up his hand, “Peter's on assignment. Grab one of the other photographers or learn to snap pics yourself.”

“Yes sir,” Ned slumped leaving. Betty gave him an uplifting smile and he returned a false one. There was news to cover.

“What assignment is Peter on?” Robbie didn't share his team's fear/worship of Jonah. Robbie knew the best way to handle Jameson was with straight honesty and, when the situation called for it, backbone and defiance.

“The assignment of his lifetime!” Jameson said gleefully, “The defeat and unmasking of Spider-man.”

“And how is that--”

The elevator opened to let Lee out and Parker in. Peter gave a hello to the Asian reporter and was summarily ignored in return. Shrugging his shoulders, he entered the Bugle. Betty gave him an apologetic smile. Peter was thinking with his little spider when he smiled back. He shook the cobwebs out. Ever since Cat last week he'd been looking at women a lot more intently than before.

“Peter my boy! Glad you could make it!” Jonah walked away from a steamed Robertson to clasp Peter around the shoulders. “It's going to be a glorious day.”

“Why?” Peter asked, “Do you expect Spider-man to come after that ad?”

“Ad my boy? That was outreach. We need to get into the head of wallcrawler. The world needs to know its heroes.” Jameson waxed, “And I need you right here to get it all on film.”

“Actually, this is a digital camera and--”

“Shut up, Parker,” Jameson said through his brightest of smiles.

“How do you know he even reads The Bugle?” Peter pushed. He wanted to stay out of his mask and away from his boss today. 

“He's the one who calls you and demands you take his pictures.” Jameson poked Peter in the chest. “A glory-hog right? There's no way he'll miss this.”

Peter supposed the “Spider-man” he had constructed during Venom's declaration would indeed fall for this. Sighing, he looked at Jameson and said, “Well if he's coming he usually swings in through the window. I should get some real estate to get the best angles.”

“Good work, my boy,” Jameson pushed Peter out. The boy had odd habits but he got the best and only Spidey pics. As soon as Peter disappeared behind the closing elevator doors, Robertson round on Jameson yet again.

Betty settled into her desk and sighed. Ned and Peter all tangled up in things. That was why she cared for both of them, she liked driven men. She also worried about driven men. She hoped Peter would stay safe and she hoped Ned would open up to her again soon.

The Spectacular Spider-man leapt out the supply closet's window before launching a webline out and swinging around and up. He stuck on the window outside of Jameson's office. 

“Knock! Knock!” Spidey pushed open Jameson's window.

“Spider-man!” Jonah slammed his office door behind him, shutting himself out from Robbie's glare.

“You're supposed to say 'Who's there?' Picklepuss.” Spider-man rocked lazily upside down on his webline.

“Can it web--”

“Interrupting webslinger!” Spider-man shouted webbing up Jonah's mustache. “I don't know what you want, Jolly one, and I don't care. I'm going to--”

Peter's spider-sense erupted like Vesuvius. He twisted just in time to see the green hulk leaping at him. “Whoa!” Peter kicked off the window and flipped down a story before grabbing the brick wall.

“Well, well, well Spider, looks like The Scorpion finally caught up to you.”

“You know I figured with Toomy and Gobby gone I'd get a vacation from new supervillains,” Spider-man sighed. “Now it seems like every two-bit thug gets to play dress up.”

The scorpion was protected by green plated armor. He was huge, only outclassed in size by the Rhino. The armor broadened shoulders, barreled chest and thickened legs. Gargan stood at six and a half feet and leapt near to thirty.

Size alone no longer intimidated Peter Parker. Spider-man's webline grabbed the lip of the building's roof and Spider-man tensed his web, slingshotting himself in a double kick to Scorpion's chest. Gargan didn't even move from his perch. A gauntleted hand grabbed a spider-boot. Spider-man grunted as the grip clawed his ankle, without the glove and boot it might have sheared to the bone. Slam! Spider-man coughed as he collided with the Bugle's brick wall. Slam! Spider-man crashed into the wall on Scorpion's left. Crash! Scorpion let go of Spider-man's ankle while the webcrawler burst through the window of the bugle. His momentum carried him over Jonah's ducking head and through the glass doors that separated Editor in Chief from staff. Betty yelped and kicked of her desk, rolling back on her office chair away from the shattered glass.

“Scorpion! Take it outside!” Jameson shouted as Gargan climbed into the office. The self satisfied smile on Scorpion's face flickered for a moment.

“Your paycheck,” He grumbled. Scorpion felt less convinced than usual. He was kicking Spider-man's tail. He deserved a bit more respect than the relentless chewing outs he had come to accept as his daily bread.

“As Shocker would say,” Spider-man cartwheeled back to his feet. “It's time to squash the bug!” Spider-man through all his weight into his shoulder, using all the spider-strength in his legs to kick off and all the tensile strength of his webline to add as much force as he could to his tackle. He would have squashed himself against Rhino but Scorpion wasn't quite so solidly built. Jameson shouted, diving away as yet another window burst into shards. The Scorpion tilted tail over teakettle reaching out over the intersection. Spider-man wasn't about to let another supervillain punch a crater below. Scorpion was caught and swung, Spider-man let go, catapulting the Scorpion all the way across the concrete canyon and hard into a far building. The spider chased the scorpion.

“Mr Jameson! Are you hurt!” Betty was the second at the door but the loudest as the crew of the Bugle went to tend to their boss.

“I'm fine Ms Brant.” Jonah stood up brushing the dust and glass shards from his shirt and pants. A few pricks in his palms were a small price to pay for the show he had designed. Robbie scowled, looking at the battle across the street. Betty rushed to the first aid kit and was checking on Jameson's hands, ignoring the berating she was receiving from her employer.

“Little Spider's got some moves,” Scorpion clawed his way up onto the edge of the roof. “But the Scorpion is just getting started.”

“Yeah, just keep talking while I kick your tail.” Spider-man skidded across the roof behind Gargan. His shoulder was screaming from the hit he had driven into Scorpion's solar plexus. The big green monster didn't even look winded. Spider-man blasted Gargan in the eyes with a thick clod of webbing.

“I can't see!” Gargan exposited for those who couldn't follow.

“That's cause it's nighttime, Scorpy.” Spider-man quipped as he launched himself towards Scorpion, “Time to go to slee-”

Scorpion flailed his giant tail. Spider sense didn't really do more than irritate when Peter had invested so much momentum. It was like getting hit by every baseball bat at the world series. Peter howled in pain as his abdomen erupted in pain. The spider cartwheeled across the roof and off the far end.

“Where are you, you stupid insect!” Scorpion yelled, he had cut his face as he clawed off the webbing blindfold.

“Of all the people to get that wrong!” Spider's banter suffered as he did, “Spiders and Scorpions are ARACHNIDS!”

Spider-man punctuated his yell with eight kicks to Scorpions knees, elbows, shoulders and ankles. He was looking for any chink in Scorpion's seemingly impenetrable armor. His search seemed fruitless as he dove across the gravel surface away from the bladed hook on the tail. The roof shook as the Scorpion punched through. Luckily, the apartment he burst into was empty.

“Insect, arachnid, what does it matter if in a few minutes your going to be dead meat.” Scorpion may not have had Spider-man's flexibility but he definitely had his speed. Gargan dashed at Spider-man. Peter dived over the low sweeping tail and took a fiendish close-line across his throat. Spider-man couldn't find the breath to scream. It was all the hero could do to roll out of the way of the heavy stomp aimed for his chest.

He couldn't fight! He was getting hammered! Run, regroup, bring the Scorpion somewhere he could control the scene. Find his breath again, and then end this like the hero Spider-man was supposed to be. He kept rolling until he fell off the roof and swung up. Two web clods collided with Scorpion.

“You can fight Scorpy! But can you keep up with me!” Spider-man shouted, “Let's play follow the leader!” Spider-man had to yell because he was afraid his throat would collapse if he didn't use as much force on it as he could. Thwip, swing, thwip, swing. He moved slow, just until he was certain Scorpion was following. After the first two turns it was clear Scorpion had let the Spider go. Spider-man hated a villain who didn't rise to the bait. Dejected and due for another beating, Spider-man swung back to find an empty roof.

 

Peter hurt all over and had a huge bruise forming on his right flank. Every swing was torment. On the upswing, pain flared up and he scrunched his face up under his mask. He swung into Queens and landed on the tree in his backyard. His whole body groaned. He was about to make the final leap onto the roof before climbing into his window when his Spidey sense managed to tingle harder than his hurts. A brief glimpse of pink and red told him MJ was in his room again. He was just about to dive out of the tree, find some shadowy corner to change before he ran home when his Aunt May early warning alarm rang in his pocket. Dammit! He swore in his head but couldn't even hear the mental profanity because of the shriek that erupted out from his bedroom window.

Leaping away, Peter disappeared into the night. He needed someplace to change. There was an empty house two blocks down, he dropped into the shaded garage and struggled into his street clothes. He stuffed his mask, gloves, boots and webshooters into his schoolbag. His mind was running a mile a minute as he tried to hide his stiff muscles and get home.

“Peter? Where are you?” Aunt May asked as he rang up the number, he had only a couple seconds to ten.

“I'm just passing the Thompson house, I'll be right home.”

“Oh good dear, I was hoping this wasn't another of your late nights. Mary Jane came over and she's waiting for y--No, she just left. Oh, well I'm sure she'll see you soon. She was all out of sorts. You didn't do anything to hurt her?”

“No, not that I--She's right here Aunt May.” MJ had stormed up to Peter and she was glaring at him with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. She snatched his phone.

“Hi, May. No I'm alright. I'm going to borrow Peter if that's OK? Just a half hour or so. You sleep well. Good night.” She hung up the phone without handing it back to Peter. He gaped at her.

“Uh,” Peter began, his facade of gifted eloquence nowhere in sight. MJ was fiddling with his Osberry. It then erupted with his curfew alarm. She held it out at him.

“Why did Spider-man's phone go off like this! Why was he outside your window!” She was angry.

“Uh, I don't--”

“Don't give me that bull!” MJ didn't curse. It made her feel like her father. She dragged Peter by the arm into her Aunt's home. Anna was just turning down for the night. A welcome home/good night muttered from the upstairs bedroom as MJ led Peter to the far upstairs room. The guest bedroom was MJ's room. It was done up, decorated and stocked with her clothes, posters, makeup and school supplies. She lived here when things were bad. She stayed her most nights lately.

“You're Spider-man.” MJ wheeled on Peter. Her voice was fierce as a scream but quiet as a hiss.

“What? No! I couldn't--” Peter stumbled and lied. MJ reached for Peter's bag and he pulled out of her reach. “Stop, MJ!”

“Do you know how scared we were last Christmas! Gwen and I had thought you were hurt or... or... or worse! And all of the other times you ran off! Oh God! Mark! You beat him up! How could you?”

“MJ, I'm not--” Peter stepped forward and put a calming hand on MJ's shoulders. She was still delirious. But her red lipstick and bright eyes and closeness was affecting Peter. She kissed him back for the first few seconds. She stumbled away from Peter when she pushed him away.

Peter's eyes widened as his Spider-sense erupted. He swayed back dodging the full handed slap. The second one came harder but Peter dodged that too. She kept coming and if he grabbed her wrist she started kicking. Sighing, Peter let go, slumped his shoulders. The crack echoed in the little bedroom. MJ gripped her throbbing red palm. She hit less hard than the Scorpion, but her sting went deeper.

“MJ, I'm not--” His spidey sense erupted again and he sighed letting her hit him once again. That's not what she was doing. She pulled his bag and ripped the top open to show off Peter's boots and webshooters. MJ stumbled back and fell onto her bed.

“You are Spider-man!” She said disbelieving. She had been so certain, but finding out she was right was terrifying. Venom was right! Oh God! Was Venom Eddie? He had showed up at the school with no reason to be their, screaming and hollering as they dragged him away to Ravencroft. Her mind reeled, thoughts ricocheting in her skull. Peter had sex with Black Cat! I stole naked pictures of Peter from his computer! Spider-man kissed me! Had she not been so overwhelmed she might have panicked worse. Her emotions wreaked havoc on her. This was Peter. Peter was easy, comfortable, friendly. Peter was Spider-man.

“Don't lie Peter,” She looked up, “Please don't lie to me. Mark lied, mom lies, dad lies. You and Anna were the people who didn't lie to me. Please don't lie to me.” She was crying Peter couldn't bare to look at her eyes. He sat down next to her on the bed. Part of him wanted to hold her, the rest knew he wasn't worthy. His heart was hammering behind his ribs. His palms were sweaty. He looked at her, so wide open, so raw. He swallowed. How did his mouth get this dry? How did Sandman ever talk?

“Last May, on a field trip, I was bit by a spider at Dr Connors' laboratory.” He recounted. Each word was like a heavy stone being lifted off of his chest. “I guess one of the spider's had gotten loose because as I was getting ready to take a picture I got bitten on the hand. The next day I no longer needed my glasses. I could lift a Volkswagen. I could stick to walls. I could jump from the lawn to the roof. I was superhuman. I putzed around for a couple of weeks. Up until a week before exams, playing with myself... I mean testing my powers and learning about them. I put together the webshooters, finally, I made the costume. I decided to cash in on my powers. There was this underground wrestling scene. They offered good money for bright characters and decent matches. I made the Spider-man for that purpose.”

“And how did you become a superhero?” MJ asked. “I mean, why not just cash in on the money? You could be anything with those powers.”

“They wouldn't make the check out to Spider-man without me signing an exclusive contract. I didn't want to. That's when the place got robbed. I let Walter go, not my problem, I said. He stole Uncle Ben's car, he was outside waiting for me to drive me home. He didn't know what I was doing there, he thought I was at the library.”

“Wait, is that how your Uncle Ben died?” MJ's green eyes went wide. Peter's face answered her question. She hugged him tightly and they fell back onto the bed. The story hurt. The truth hurt. Peter and MJ were hurting, but Peter and MJ were healing. They lay together, in each other's arms for a few minutes. He didn't try to kiss her again. He just held her. She waited for the kiss but it didn't come.

“Does Gwen know?” MJ asked eventually.

“No,” Peter said, “But I think Captain Stacy figured it out. I think he's glad Gwen's with Harry. After Electro kidnapped Gwen, he's been overprotective.

“Oh,” MJ said, they were laying side by side on her little bed. She never realized how close this forced her to be to someone until now. “So what now?”

“You can't tell anyone,” Peter said, rolling on his side to look her in the eyes, “Do you know what Doc Ock or Tombstone could do with that kind of information?”

“I won't tell anyone. I promise.” MJ put a hand over her heart. “Wow, Spider-man. This is amazing.”

“I think I prefer Spectacular.”

“How about Ultimate?”

“No, that's a bit too juvenile.”

“Says The Spectacular Spider-man.” MJ laughed contagiously. She laid her hand on Peter's side and he convulsed. “You're hurt!”

“No, it's--” Peter couldn't calm her down as she tore off his shirt. He didn't fight but didn't help her either. After finding his arms tangled in his shirts and uniform, he heard MJ gasp. Her slight fingers were so cool against the battered marks on his ribs and abdominal muscles. Her thumbnail traced along the curve of his oblique. She swallowed before she talked.

“Oh my God,” She whispered. “Oh, Peter.”

It was all Peter could do to struggle out of his shirts. He was about to speak when the doorknob turned. MJ panicked and rolled over and onto Peter's lap stuffing his shirts under her pillows as her Aunt Anna appeared in the doorway.

“You better get dressed and head home Peter,” Aunt said, “I'm going to have to have a talk to MJ about guests after her curfew. I'll be back in two minutes, you should be dressed and off for home by then. I'm sure May's going to have something to say too.”

If there wasn't a conspiratory smirk in every lilt of her voice, Peter would have been panicked rather than embarrassed. Anna Watson closed the door over but not all the way. MJ looked down at the boy pinned between her thighs. “See you at school tomorrow,” She leaned in to his ear. The whisper was so quiet he almost didn't hear. “Spider-man.”

 

The city was in peril. Mac Gargan, The Scorpion, was unstoppable. The police had tried gas grenades, bullets, snipers and stun guns. His armor shrugged off many of the assaults and his superhuman strength and agility avoided the rest. His sledgehammer tail tore the doors off a wall of safe deposit boxes. His bag of jewels, cash and bonds was getting heavy. Nothing like a dishonest days work. He made his way out, two security guards were smacked aside, even though they had long since surrendered their useless firearms.

“This is all your fault,” Joe 'Robbie' Robertson dropped the morning's press on J Jonah Jameson's desk. Peter's picture of the Scorpion's tail colliding with Spider-man and the by-line: Who Is The Scorpion? Belied the article praising Mac Gargan's rise to protect the city. “Your stooge has run wild, you know? Three police are in the hospital, not to mention the destruction, the fear, and the thefts.”

“Gargan will be taken down.” Jonah grabbed his publishing and balled it up in his hands. “The people and the police know who he is. He can't hide. He can't run. He'll be taken down.”

“He's out there as a menace because of you!” Robbie hollered. The Bugle was still in destructive disarray. The glass and debris had been cleaned up. Plywood replaced shattered panes. Workers were rebuilding the glass partition. “He brought your stupid fight into these offices! He could have hurt you! Me! Anyone!”

“I know!” Jameson slammed his hands down on his desk and looked his oldest friend dead in the eye. “It was worth the risk to save the city from Spider-mask! Gargan was a known quantity. A paycheck and clear directions and he went after it. No questions. No hassle. No backbone!”

“You gave a sick man all the power he needed to become a dangerous one. You've seen what this kind of thing can do to people. Your own son was--”

“Do not talk to me about John!” Fists slammed into desktop. “Get out Robbie. There's news to cover and it's your job to make sure the people know about it, not to be certain that I do. Now get to work.”

“Right away,” Robbie turned, feeling less guilt about bringing up John than anger at Jonah, “Boss.”

 

Peter had to endure “The Talk” from May first thing in the morning. It was less awkward than it had been with Uncle Ben. Ben's convoluted metaphors and jokes to cover his unease had become a great memory of Peter's lost uncle. May was succinct, technical and supportive. She also seemed to have as big of a crush on MJ as Peter ever did. He shook that mental image out of his mind as he swung to class.

MJ knew his secret. MJ knew he was Spider-man. MJ had tasted like peaches. MJ knew the truth of Spider-man. He made sure to arrive late, for the first time on purpose. Easier to duck questions, knowing looks and other exchanges he knew had to be coming. He was so out of sorts almost forgot to switch his Spider boots for his sneakers before heading in to class. He didn't have criminology until after lunch so his only problem all morning were the distracting butterflies. Gwen noticed and asked. He claimed to have a bit of stomach bug. Her hand gave a nervous tremble as she laid a palm across his brow and proclaimed him feverless. He smiled and tried to pay attention to Mr Warren's lecture on convergent vs divergent evolution.

Lunchtime happened. There was no avoiding it. Peter wished to be sucked away to some distant world where he could do something he was comfortable with. A war against all his worst villains perhaps. He and Harry bantered as he got a grilled cheese sandwich from the lunchlord? Lunchman? The word puzzle helped clear his head as he followed Harry to the table where Gwen was waiting. Peter sighed, relieved, to see MJ over gossiping with Glory Grant. Until the hair stuck up on the back of his neck. Gossip! What could be juicier than Peter is Spi--

“You OK Pete? You look like your a million miles away.” Harry looked over his shoulder and followed Peter's line of sight to the redhead. “MJ?” Harry smiled and punched Peter in the shoulder. “You dog.”

“Peter?” Gwen lifted and eyebrow. She was gorgeous. Peter melted a little looking at her face.

“No, just had a weird conversation with May this morning after a misunderstanding last night.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?” Harry inquired.

“Nothing important,” Peter took a deep breath. “Anyway, how are things with you two?”

Liz Allan watched from across the cafeteria. She was sitting across from Sally and Rand but neither were paying much attention to her. She had seen Peter staring at MJ. She had put two and two together. Scowling, she shoved her fork into her fruit cup. Ew. Ketchup.

 

 

Spider-man took to the air. He was unsure whether he should feel relieved or impending doom after dodging MJ at school today. He sat next to her criminology and she hadn't even tried to pass him a note. She almost seemed unfriendly. He had more important things to think about. He healed much quicker now, but he was still sore. He owed Scorpion a rematch, and judging from the way Captain Stacy had talked about New York's latest supervillain, he had given Gargan too much time to get into trouble. 

Gargan had it all. Power and money. There was nothing you couldn't have with power and money. Women, fear, respect, women. He had proven to himself that the city was rife for the taking. He knew just what he was going to take next. There was this little brunette at J Jonah Jackass's office. Little woman, with the sexiest eyes he had ever seen cringe. He needed to celebrate his new found life. He figured a tight little broad like that would know how to party. Plus there was the added benefit of rubbing Jameson's face in the whole mess.

Hero and villain unknowingly converged on the offices of the Daily Bugle.

“Ned! Where the flaming hell is Ned!” Jameson tore off through his offices in search of his best young reporter.

“He's out following up on the Jack O'Lantern--”

“Jack O'Lantern!” Jameson shouted, “That's last century's story. I need him on Scorpion. We want Scorpion. The people want Scorpion!”

“All you had to do was ask.” The Scorpion entered from the elevator. He clipped his head off the top of the elevator's door. He was unused to his height, but it was a small price to pay for the power.

“Gargan!” Jameson stormed across the room towards the former private detective. “What in the blazes are you doing!”

“Ah, you know me, boss,” He oozed greasy charm. “Anything at anytime, so long as the payday is right.” Betty's lip crinkled as she eyed the man in disgust. His voice and presence as bad as the first day she ever laid eyes on him. Now she was also scared.

“Sit down, Gargan,” Jameson demanded, “I'll give you a chance to get your words on paper. Let the world know what you're going to do to save them from Spider-man.”

“I can get to Spider-man later.” Promised the Scorpion, “For now I'm come to collect.”

“I gave you your money, Gargan.” Jameson scowled, “Now sit down and--”

“Please,” Scorpion swept Jameson aside. “Man can't live on bread alone.” He turned towards Betty, “Sometimes he needs a little honey.”

The click of plastic on glass and the squirt of web against the back of camera, didn't carry into the office. Gargan stormed forward and swatted aside Betty's desk with a casual sledgehammer swing of his tail. He was grinning darkly. She shrieked, stepping back and tripping over her spinning chair. He leapt over her, muscular arm pushing down on her slender shoulder. The red and blue blur was only a fraction of a second longer. The Scorpion suffered the kick to his jaw with little grace. He twisted over and fell away from Betty.

“I know you like the pretty girl, but that doesn't mean you can pull her hair and call her names.” Spider-man put himself between Betty and the beast.

“Not wise, Spider.” The Scorpion rose up to his full daunting height. He leaned forward, arms rippling with power and tail poising to strike. “Not wise at all.”

“You want wisdom, try an owl,” Spider-man declared as Scorpion rushed forward. The villain kicked into a length of webbing and tangled up his ankles before smacking his unprotected face forward. The next two strips of webbing locked the Scorpion's face to the floor. “But if you want a trap, try a spider.”

The strength in his arms was uninhibited and his tail was still dangerous. Betty had managed to scramble away to wear the other Buglers were gathered. It was Spider versus Scorpion in the center stage. Spider-man dodged a blind whack-a-mole tail strike.

“Missed!” Spider-man was laying on the webbing as thick as he could, but as much as he managed to cocoon Gargan's legs or mummify an arm across a back, Scorpion's strength managed to tear free. He was up on his feet, slower, caked with webs, but not immobile. The tail was still dangerous. Two deep furrows in the carpet were left from as the bladed tail clubbed after the quick dodging Spider-man.

“Stay still you little twit!” Gargan hollered as he trumped around the office, thrashing wildly. Spider-man knew this office and he used every corner to his advantage. Foswell's desk shattered under a blow from the tail. Spider-man took the opportunity to dive atop and tackle the tail from the middle. Peter hollered as he was slammed bodily into the floor, but he laughed when Scorpion turned and looked at the flattened body on the floor.

“What are you laughing at?” Gargan yelled.

“I caught the tiger by the tail,” Peter raised his right wrist and tightened the webline that he had managed to stick to Gargan's back side.

“I'm not tiger, I'm a Scorpion!” Gargan yelled and Peter had to swerve and roll as the blast of steaming blue and green chemicals spattered where Spider-man had been laying. The carpet dissolved and the floor smoked. “My tail is deadly.”

“And attached by three clips to your butt.” Spider grabbed a second hand on his web and pulled hard. There were three successive pops and the whole log of a tail fell off and down and clattered on the abused Bugle floor.

“What! No!” Peter pressed the attack during Scorpion's surprise. A flipping kick to the top of Scorpion's head slammed the green armored villain into the floor. Spider-man's foot came down on the exposed connector and finally found a weak spot in Gargan's armor. Scorpion twisted and shook as Spider-man's full forced kicked his ass. In his shock and surprise, Peter was given the opportunity to knot and wind his webs all over the Scorpion.

“There you go Picklepuss,” Spider-man tore off Scorpion's hood, “New York's most dangerous arachnid caught and trussed up.”

“Spider-man! Wait you--” Jonah was interrupted by some of the last webs in Peter's left web shooter. 

“Save your breath for the cops you're about to call.” Spider-man snarked and dove out the window he came in. Two webshots, one to fetch his camera and another to swing him up into the closet. He had gotten pretty good at scrambling out of his uniform and into his civvies. He ducked his head out. Betty was in Robbie's embrace and she was crying. Peter rushed over and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh my God!” She said, “You were here Peter! Are you hurt?” Betty completely let go of her personal fear as she worried about those around her.

“No, I'm OK,” Peter admired the strength in this woman, “You're not hurt?”

“Just a little shook up,” She said. Ned appeared in through the elevators. Robbie and Peter nodded and led her over to the just arrived reporter.

“Hey Betty, you look like hell,” Ned said when he was intercepted by Peter, Robbie and Betty. Betty actually warmed to that. He had noticed Betty before the webbed destruction and captured supervillain. “What the hell happened here?”

“Spider-man saved us from The Scorpion.” Betty explained. Jameson stomped over.

“Foswell, you take these people downstairs, there're ambulances and medics waiting to look everyone over.” At this time the first cops were starting to arrive on scene. Sergeant Carter walked ahead of Officer DeWolff whistling as he overlooked the wholesale destruction. “Lee you take notes up here, I want everything a fresh pair of eyes can see. Robbie you look after the cops. And Parker, tell me you got pictures!”

Peter looked down at the camera in his left hand. He looked up to see Foswell leading away the victims and witnesses down the stairs. He lifted up the camera and shuffled through his collection. He grew angrier with every recollection.

“You want your pictures! Here!” Peter shoved his camera at Jonah. The viewer showed a brutal image. The Scorpion's tail had just tossed Betty's desk over her head and his green gloved hand pushed the secretary down by a shoulder. The villainous sneer on Gargan's dark face was obvious. The threat in the picture was devastating. “You can take your sanctimonious bullshit and find another photographer to enable it. I'm out. No more Spider-man pics. I can't be a part of this fiasco again.”

Peter swiped the camera back out of Jameson's hands and stormed off towards the door. Two officers were rolling Scorpion into the elevator on a handtruck. The office was empty but for Carter, Robbie and Ned. The words that chased after Peter were impossibly livid. “Go on you ungrateful little worm! You'll never work in this town again! Not unless your back here in thirteen point seven seconds on your hands and knees!”

Robbie watched a boy with integrity beyond his years disappear behind the closing doors of the elevator. He almost walked out with the boy. But Robbie had responsibilities. It was up to him to reign in his friend. And it was up to Robbie to assure that it was Jonah on his knees when Peter finally came back.

 

“Ah,” Peter moaned pitiably spread out across his bed. He had stripped off his gloves, mask, boots and pants and was only wearing his spider shirt and his boxers. He had a bruise spreading on his right leg and a fattened lip. They weren't the worst injuries he had suffered but they were sore and he had the right to moan and whine to himself.

Aunt May's bedtime had came and went. The house was chill and quiet. Peter stared up at the roof. He was wearing his Spider-man top and boxers. He was peeling his socks off his feet with his toes. He was showing more bruise than skin. He was feeling heartsick. He almost mistook the soft tingles for battle earned discomfort. He might have if there hadn't been a soft feminine swear outside his closed window. Someone was climbing up to his roof. MJ? What did she want this late. Well there were still money problems and Peter was going to need the money. MJ was his link to the modeling agency. He hoped he could get that job. Otherwise he was dead in the water. Jameson could make it so he could never work as a photographer again. He was already wracked with fear and regret. Peter rose from his bed and walked to the window. He saw the black hair before she saw the red shirt. Liz? Crap. Peter tumbled backwards over his bed, shedding his uniform and stuffing the garment under his bed. He popped up just as the young woman knocked on his window.

“Liz?” Peter hissed a whisper. He did open the window. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to know.” She looked more determined that he had seen ever seen her.

“Know what?” Peter said. She crossed to him and reached around his waist. She was icy from the early spring night.

“I needed to know.” Is all she said as her head fell against his chest. Peter's arms closed around her.

 

 

I've decided to add these notes to show where these characters were before. Also, if anyone has any hypotheses on who the girl might be in Season 1 episode 3. (She has freckles and blue-green dreadlocks and The Lizard almost eats her head). Please make them known. It always bugged me that she never showed up again.

[1] Season 1, Episode 8. Dr Octopus's boss before he left to Oscorp.   
[2] Season 1, Episode 4, drove the truck the enforcers robbed that was carrying Shocker suit. Also in Season 2, Episode 1 he deemed it was safer to be inside the truck Mysterio was stealing. And finally in Season 2, Episode 6 he was driving the truck that was attacked by Venom, causing him to swerve into a building and start a fire that Col. Jupiter assisted Spider-man in fighting.


End file.
